Gay Harry Potter-4-1-Danny Jorrocks and the Four Missing Persons
by jerome1980
Summary: Gay Harry Potter goes missing. Then, after a day and night of homoerotic frolics, Gay Piers Polkiss goes missing too. It's up to Gay Danny Jorrocks to restore amends. WARNING: Some gay content.


**DANNY JORROCKS AND THE FOUR MISSING PERSONS**

_**Blurb**_

_Gay Harry Potter goes missing. Then, after a day and night of homoerotic frolics, Gay Piers Polkiss goes missing too. It's up to Gay Danny Jorrocks to restore amends. WARNING: Some gay content._

_**Contents**_

1. _The Dorchester 1_

2. _Little Whinging 3_

3. _Carry-on in a Convenience 8_

4. _No Shit! 12_

5. _The Science Museum 15_

6. _Red-hot 19_

7. _Even Hotter 25_

8. _Madame Tussaud's 28_

9. _Diagon Alley 32_

10. _Whish 41_

11. _The Minister of Magic 46_

12. _Bobbies 51_

13. _Blackmail and Bribery 57_

14. _The House of Danger 65_

15. _What happened to Piers 73_

16. _Mundungus' Den 76_

17. _Dumbledore Takes Charge 81_

18. _The Creeveys at Home 85_

19. _Twister 90_

20. _Canal Boys and Happy Boys 94_

21. _A Waste of a Whopper 98_

22. _Bobbies Again 102_

_Epilogue 106_

Appendix 1. _The Game of Twister 108_

Appendix 2. _Dedication... 110_

Appendix 3. _Future Reading: Danny Jorrocks and the Week of Sex 110_

— CHAPTER ONE —_**The Dorchester**_

Danny Jorrocks woke up with the horn and, as usual, he reached down with his right hand and gently rubbed his willy. He felt an intense urge for pleasure—an urge which strangely combined the tension of needing to be immediately satisfied with the relaxed knowledge that it soon _would_ be. He licked the first two fingers of his left hand and moistened the end of his willy. Then, settling down on his back, he started to rub his foreskin backwards and forwards over the purple acorn-shape at the tip. Danny was wanking—or, as it's called by boy-wizards all over the world, _bashing the basilisk_.

For Danny was a wizard—and an astonishingly proficient wizard for a boy aged thirteen years and three months. Danny's father was very rich and had been able to engage some of the best wizard professors in the world to coach Danny in every aspect of wizardry. Danny had had his first wand at the age of three (dwarf spruce with a core of unicorn hair) and, with his latest grown-up wand (rowan/unicorn), could do more than most adult wizards.

As the bedclothes rustled with Danny's vigorous stroking, he felt a wonderful warmth in his loins which was, in some weird way, connected with his bumhole. Sometimes he had stuck a finger up his bum while wanking, which was nice but involved an awkward distortion of the body. He resolved that during his third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry he would try to persuade other boys to supply a finger—or, better still, a willy—though he was really saving _that_ for Harry Potter. Danny's sex-life during his first two years at Hogwarts had been busy, but bland: he had wanked off lots of older boys and been wanked and sucked by some of them, though he hadn't been able to come. Happily, the pleasure of coming had been granted four weeks previously and Danny, a highly-sexed boy, indulged himself two or three times a day and always felt he had something in reserve.

He felt an extra urgency and increased his stroke rate, thinking of Harry. Danny had met Harry Potter on his first day at Hogwarts and fallen in love—but Danny, being affectionate as well as highly-sexed, had fallen in love with most of the boys there; not the girls, though: Danny liked girls but was repulsed by their bosoms and didn't even want to _know_ what they were like down under. But the boys ... the boys were so beautiful! ... and Harry was so special!

Swish—swish—swish went the bedclothes and Danny thought of kissing Harry at the sweet spot where neck meets shoulder. This vision made him come immediately: he felt himself turned inside out and, with screwed-up face and a quiet _ugh—ugh—ugh_ he felt the joy of orgasm. He lay back panting for a few seconds, then lifted the bedclothes and looked: a trickle of slightly sticky, absolutely clear fluid had dribbled from his willy. He knew from experience that this was odourless and, apart from a hint of salt, tasteless—not like the delightfully acrid and milky cum which spurted or oozed from older boys.

Danny was really enjoying his puberty: every day he examined himself as, imperceptibly, his willy lengthened and filled out and his pubic hairs—almost one-by-one it seemed—replaced the boyish down. He felt his balls: yes, they were definitely getting bigger. He checked his armpits: no hair, but a real manly smell. His face was glabrous too. A couple of boys in his year had had to start shaving their moustaches and sideburns long before their thirteenth birthday, though he had no classes with _his year_ as he had been advanced a year due to his phenomenal performance. He had been offered another jump which would have meant sharing fifth-year classes with Harry, but reluctantly turned it down so that he could extend a rather-neglected strength: he was keen on languages and wanted to study several magical and Muggle ones.

Danny reached over and picked up the telephone by his bed. To the immediate response of _Room Service! How can we help?_ he asked for some tea. He put down the phone and reached for a book. Danny had been brought up in the wizard world and at Hogwarts had really enjoyed Muggle Studies—especially the story of the Industrial Revolution when Muggle and wizard lifestyles had rapidly diverged. Now he was following up by reading a book called _Victorian People_ which took matters forward to 1867.

As he read, his hand strayed to one of his nipples and his mind wandered from the book. His nipples were definitely getting larger and gave him a pleasant, mildly erotic feeling when they were gently tweaked. He thought how exciting it would be if it were Harry doing the tweaking—or his beautiful classmate Colin Creevey; but Danny thought that Colin didn't go in for much sex as he was saving a lot of himself for Harry, his great hero and the love of his life. He imagined Harry _sucking_ one nipple, and Colin sucking the other one. Danny had the horn again.

He was brought down to earth by a knock on the door and a muffled call: _Room Service!_

'Come in!' he called and _the same waiter_ appeared. During the Jorrocks' previous visits to the Dorchester Hotel, room service had been supplied by a random member of what seemed to be a pool of half a dozen waiters or waitresses. For the last few days, though, his tea had often been brought by the same young, dark-haired, olive-skinned man who smiled pleasantly into Danny's eyes at every opportunity. Danny was not used to the ways of Muggles—though he hoped this would change over the summer—but he knew when someone fancied him.

After an exchange of _Good Mornings_ the waiter carried over a tray mounted on short legs and laid it across Danny's lap as he sat up in bed.

'Shall I draw the curtains, Sir?' He had a Mediterranean accent. He was good-looking and moved lithely.

'Please.'

'Will there be anything else, Sir?'

Danny thought there might be the a hint of an erection in the man's trousers as he turned after drawing the curtains. Danny dithered: he would have enjoyed a bit of sex, but knew that in the Muggle world twenty-five-year-old men who fancied little boys were thought to be weird and dangerous. He put the decision off: 'Not today, thanks.'

'Thank you, Sir.'

'Thank _you_.' The waiter's jacket was short and his trousers stretched tightly over what Danny thought was probably a business-like rump. Yes: the waiter would probably want payment—maybe euphemised as 'a tip'. Wizards, incidentally, don't go in for tipping, considering it a practice demeaning to both parties.

Danny poured a cuppa and settled down to his book. He read for a few minutes, noting that English public schools were clearly modelled on wizard schools and wondering how the concept had crossed over.

There was a knock on the door connecting his room to the sitting room and his mother's voice called: ''Morning, Daniel!'

'Come in, Mum!'

Mrs Jorrocks crossed the room and kissed Danny. She was a small, but stately woman in her mid-forties. Like many other mothers of one, she had totally indulged her son, but in this case the adored object had not been spoiled: Danny's intellectual commitment and his empathy for others had produced a model son and a model citizen of the wizard world, apart from his cheekiness and lack of respect for his elders.

'It's another lovely day!' Mrs Jorrocks looked out over the vista of Hyde Park that was revealed from their high suite of rooms. 'Stephen called on the Muggle phone to say all's well in Brazil.'

'That's good. When's he coming home?'

'Weeks yet, I'm afraid. If Scumbag goes active, there'll be a lot of complications.' _Scumbag_ was the Jorrocks' name for Lord Voldemort, who most other wizards referred to as 'You-Know-Who.'

'It's a funny sort of holiday this year, without Dad.'

'Yes, dear. I'm taking the day off today, dear. Would you like to visit Aunt Rose with me?' Mrs Jorrocks' sister and her husband had a farm on the Isle of Wight.

'I'd prefer to spend the day wandering around as a Muggle, Mum, if that's OK?'

'Of course it is!'

'In fact, I thought I'd try and find Harry Potter. He was really upset about Cedric's death.'

'I don't think you'll be able to, dear. Harry's under Albus Dumbldore's personal protection.'

'Yes, but he stays with Muggle relatives so the place can't be unknowable, and the magic—Old and New—will only lock out Dark Forces—I'll be able to get in.'

'And what if you and Scumbag cross paths—we know he's after Harry Potter?'

'Oh, Mum! You know I've got the Trace and Scumbag's a long way from showing himself yet —specially as the Ministry don't accept that he's back, which gives him the chance to build his forces in secret.'

'Alright then; but be careful. How will you find Harry?'

'I said try! But I know the town: Little Whinging!'

— CHAPTER TWO —_**Little Whinging**_

Danny and his mother breakfasted in the over-the-top Promenade restaurant. Mrs Jorrocks offered to Apparate Danny to Little Whinging before going to the Isle of Wight. Danny was a good Apparater but was banned as he had not passed the test—indeed banned from doing any magic in Muggle areas and many wizarding areas as he was underage.

Danny rejected his mother's offer: 'No thanks, Mum; I like Muggling my way around.'

'Well, take your wand just in case; but remember it's only for emergencies! And take your Invisibility Cloak—you're allowed to use that. And comb your hair!'

'OK Mum!' He kissed goodbye then went up to his room and opened the huge wardrobe. Half of it was given over to his prized Siberian broomstick, wizard books, wizard clothes and paraphernalia. These were concealed from the hotel staff by Mrs Jorrocks' Disillusionment charms. He took out the wand, the cloak and a Muggle jacket in case it turned chilly. He packed them in a small rucksack. He looked out of the window. It certainly was a beautiful day. He was going on a fun journey at the end of which was Harry Potter! Then, when he saw Harry ... Danny had the horn again.

Danny was short for his age, but he was neat and economical in his movements. He had an impish face which was always breaking out into a smile. He had a button nose and dark, totally unmanageable hair. He left the hotel, walked to cross at the lights and entered the park. It was not yet nine o'clock, so the park was quiet, but as he walked along the North bank of the Serpentine, he saw a young couple seated on a bench and kissing each other passionately. He sighed: another youth squandering his assets on the straight world. He knew it was necessary for the propagation of the species, but it seemed such a waste ... He wondered if the girl really appreciated what was happening to her. He wished that the slender youth had been kissing him.

Danny was wearing baggy, blue combat trousers and oversized boxer shorts, the whole allowing enough room for his erections to stand out proud. As he passed the young couple he noticed that the youth had seen Danny's bulge over the girl's shoulder. The youth raised his eyes and for the briefest moment met Danny's. Danny thrust his hips forward obscenely and the boy burst out laughing, probably spraying the girl's face with spittle. Danny could hear the girl's scolding voice and heard the boy's explanation about a funny face, but he _knew_ that the boy was watching Danny's bum as it receded. A small victory for gaykind.

As he passed onto Bayswater Road, Danny thought about kissing: he wanted to kiss all the boys at Hogwarts and to snog most of them. But even in the wizard world, with its relaxed attitudes to gayness, kissing was unpopular. Danny found it extraordinary that boys who were willing to sit in a lavvy cubicle sucking Danny's willy and wanking themselves off were disgusted at Danny's request for a snog. True, kissing was a personal matter, but Danny didn't want impersonal sex: he wanted lots of sex with lots of _friends_. Friendship was the most important thing; and friendship should lead to sex as naturally as peeling a banana leads to eating it.

As if to confirm this, a group of Indian boys of his own age approached. This was a race that really understood sex! The boys were carrying stumps and bats and obviously heading for the park. They were so beautiful, chattering away and prancing like a gang of Creeveys, that Danny had to stop and smile. One of the lads shouted 'Come and play, man!'

Danny knew that here were more friends to make, but Harry Potter loomed large. 'Sorry, I'm off to have red-hot sex with my boyfriend!' he shouted. The Indian boys cheered and laughed but one or two passers-by looked snooty and some of the others looked embarrassed.

Danny bought his ticket—_child day return to Little Whinging, please_—and settled down on the train to read. The book had moved from public schools to trades unions, a topic which lead him to think of his father: the famous Stephen Jorrocks was a key figure in the wizard world.

Magic has the fundamental limitation that anything conjured out of nowhere is impermanent, though charms can, to some degree, be used to amplify, purify, prettify or strengthen existing objects. Hence the wizard economy is similar to the Muggle economy: crops are grown; animals raised; materials mined; things made; trading done. Stability is achieved by the sum of small-scale ventures, so there is none of the boom-or-bust caused by the centralised, globalised Muggle economy's need for constant expansion.

The weakness of the wizard economy is the lack of long-distance, high volume transport. But wizards and witches need some variety in their lives. If, say, a wizard family wanted to have a prawn curry, they wouldn't be able to go to the American seaboard for prawns or to the Orient for rice and spices; they would have to buy curries ready-made from a Muggle take-away or supermarket or to buy the ingredients separately—again from Muggles.

So there is a need for trade between the two worlds—a trade that must be disguised so that Muggles suspect nothing. This trade is controlled by MCI—the Muggle Commercial Interface—which is run by Jorrocks and Company. Via complicated cash transactions, local wizard products are exchanged for global Muggle products.

Mr Jorrocks had believed Dumbledore's announcement that Voldemort had returned. He had taken immediate pre-emptive measures for protection of wizard trade from the damage that Voldemort might do. This meant that, instead of being at home in the Urals or on holiday by the Black Sea, Mr Jorrocks was globe-trotting. He had parked Mrs Jorrocks and Danny in London as a convenient site for quick meetings between his Muggle air flights. Mrs Jorrocks and Danny liked London as there was so much to see and do; and it was within apparating distance of hordes of relatives scattered across Britain.

Danny changed trains at Maidenhead and was soon stepping off the platform at Little Whinging. He had picked up that Harry's best friend was called Damian Fay. He had a plan: the first stage was to find his way to the library. Once there, he went to the enquiries desk and asked the woman: 'Please could I look at the _Register of Selectors_?'

'_The Register of Electors_?'

'Yes.'

'Which ward?'

'Ward?'

'Yes, they're in separate books.'

'But it's houses, not hospitals I'm looking for.'

'Yes. Which street are the houses in?'

'I don't know.'

'Then what's the point of looking?'

Danny burst into a loud titter. Then: 'Sorry! I'll just have to go through all the books.'

'Yes. Which ward would you like to start with?'

'The first one!' And Danny was off again.

This time the woman joined in: 'Are you looking for a name? If you don't know the street, the phone book might be quicker.'

'Can you help me, please?'

'Yes, here's the book.'

'Thanks.' Danny flipped through the pages. There was no 'Fay'.

'Try the residential.' said the helpful woman.

'Which ward?' And both of them were tittering. The woman found the correct section and returned the book to Danny.

He leafed through the book muttering 'Fay ... Fay ... Fay'

'Oh, is it the Fays you want?'

'Yes please.'

'They live quite near: Heartsease House.'

She gave Danny directions and after mutual smiles he set off.

Heartsease House was a lovely, rambling old pile approached through a jungle of multi-coloured flowers. Danny rang the bell and an immediate, friendly-sounding _Woof! Woof!_ came from inside. The door was opened by a tall, fresh-faced girl in her mid-twenties. A huge white and grey lump of Old English Sheepdog brushed past the girl and jumped up on Danny, trying to lick his face. Danny was knocked backwards, but recovered and ruffled the dog's hair.

'Rocky! Get back inside, Sir!' said the girl, 'Sorry about that. You must be a friend of Damian's.'

'I don't know Damian. I was looking for Harry Potter.'

'I don't know Harry. But _he's_ a friend of Damian. Not here, I'm afraid.'

'Is Damian in, then, please?'

'No. Damian works away now. I'm sorry. I'm Damian's sister—dog-sitting while Mum and Dad are on Holiday—quite a job as you've seen!'

'Can you tell me where Harry lives, please?'

'Why not try the phonebook? Come in and have a look.'

She led the way to a table down the hall and gave Danny the phonebook.

'I know it's Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, but I don't know the surname.'

She snorted: 'It's Dursley: I've never met him, but she's the queen of snobs and her son's the king of brats, though I shouldn't be saying this to Harry's friends!'

'Don't worry. That matches Harry's description. How do you spell Dursley?'

They found the address—number four, Privet Drive—and Danny wrote it down, together with the phone number.

'Thanks a million, Gorgeous! Now, one last question: how do I get there?'

'You can phone from here if you want.'

'No thanks: the personal touch—a little touch of Harry in the night!'

She raised her eyebrows and said: 'Why not come in for a coffee? There's only me and Rocky.'

'No fear! I mean no thanks!' He turned to go, saying: 'Thanks again. And please tell Damian I look forward to meeting him. Tell him Danny Jorrocks.'

'See you, Danny.' She smiled wistfully.

Danny stepped out for Privet Drive smiling to himself. He reckoned Damian's sister—he'd forgotten to ask her name—had fancied him. A cradle-snatcher! But then girls were always chasing him. It must be the challenge: deep down they knew he was unattainable. Sadly, he usually had to fight to get a bit of boy-flesh; but he was a good fighter and he enjoyed fighting. Would Harry fight today? Danny had the horn.

He found Privet Drive easily enough and paused at the end of the road. As he came nearer to Harry, Danny had got stiffer and stiffer. His willy was now as hard as tool steel and he could hardly confront the Dursleys in that state. Desperately he thought of Damian's sister. Imagine her smothering his face with her breasts ... or taking his hand and putting it up her skirt ... A few seconds of such revolting thoughts reduced him to half-mast and he marched up to number four and pressed the bell.

There was a long pause. Danny had a sense of lace curtains twitching in the room to his right and possibly on the first floor. To show his good manners he avoided direct looks and refrained from pressing the bell again. He turned and stood on the doorstep looking at the houses opposite. There was a bit of lace-twitching there as well.

Eventually the door opened and Danny turned to see a woman looking every bit as unpleasant as Harry's common room description.

He bowed and said: 'Mrs Dursley?'

'Yes. Who are you?'

'I'm a friend of Harry Potter and I called to see him.'

Mrs Dursley looked alarmed: 'What friend? What's your name?'

Danny remembered Ms Fay's remark about Mrs Dursley being snobbish: 'Findor, Ma'am' he said, thinking: _Good title if the Muggles ever give Dad a peerage!_

'And what have you got to do with Harry. You're not from his school, are you?' She looked horrified.

Danny picked up her accidental hint: 'School? Good heavens no! Doesn't he go to some awful reformatory? I go to Eton—just up the road.' (thank you _Victorian People_!)

'Oh it must be about the golf club.'

He was baffled: Harry had never mentioned that he played golf. But again he picked up on the cue: 'Yes, that's right the golf club.'

'Well, Harry's not here. Do come in.' Her eyes traversed Privet Drive. It was clear that mention of Harry had set off a _What will the neighbours think?_ reflex.

In the kitchen they were joined by a large boy with a pig-like face and a pig-like body. 'You must be Dudley. Tom Beaufort—call me Tom!'

As the boys were shaking hands, Mrs Dursley said sharply: 'I thought you said your name was Findor.'

Danny smiled: 'I was being formal. Lord Findor is my courtesy title—Father's the Earl of Gryffin.'

Not allowing time for them to be worried or embarrassed, Danny went into detective mode: 'I'm confused about Harry. I thought he was going to be here all summer.'

'So did we, but some of his—some of his friends from that school took him away last Friday.'

'Took him away? You mean arrested?'

'No, we were all out and they left a note. It's some—some sort of project. But what am I thinking of? Would you like a drink, My Lord?'

'Tom please! And no thank you; we'll have to make alternative arrangements for the golf. But if he gets back in the next couple of days, would you ask him to ring my cousin. We're wandering about, but they're basing themselves in London' He wrote on Mrs Dursley's kitchen calendar:

_The Hon. Daniel Jorrocks_

_Dorchester Hotel_

_02076-298-888_

All this time Dudley had been slumped at the kitchen table looking shell-shocked. Danny supposed that he was awed at meeting nobility. But he stirred himself and said: 'Harry's alright.'

Mrs Dursley was at Dudley's side in an instant. 'Of course he is, Diddums, he's being looked after by his friends.'

'No, I meant I _like_ him.'

Mrs Dursley took Dudley in her arms. 'O such a sweet boy! After all that he's done to you!'

Danny was revolted. This was Harry's aunt. His guardian. An orphan's protector. She was every bit as unpleasant as Harry had said. Dudley, though, didn't seem as awful as Danny had expected.

He hurriedly made his goodbyes and was out the front door almost before Mrs Dursley knew it.

— CHAPTER THREE —_**Carry-on in a Convenience**_

Danny was worried. Had something happened to Harry? Were his _friends _really friends, or had, Heaven forbid, Scumbag caught him? He would get his mum to send an owl to Dumbledore.

He set out at a quick walk, then, remembering that his mum wouldn't be back until evening, slowed down and thought of the alternatives. He could enquire at the Ministry—No! They were a bunch of self-important thickos. Diagon Alley was too public. The London office of _Jorrocks and Company_ was Muggle-based.

He decided to leave it until the evening. It wasn't as though he could actually _do_ anything; and, with his sunny temperament, he forgot about Harry and concentrated on what he was going to do for the rest of the day.

He decided on a bite to eat in Maidenhead, a couple of hours spell practice at Tussaud's and a stroll back through the park where these Indian boys might still be cricketing. But then he noticed that he was passing the local park on one side and an Indian corner-shop on the other. Such coincidences always have their attractions for wizards, and two minutes later he was wandering across the road with a sausage roll, a bag of crisps and a big bottle of Tizer.

He settled down on a bench and munched contentedly while enjoying the view: mothers with kids and prams; a few little kids on the swings; a couple of gardeners. No talent, though a ravaged young man in scruffy clothes, leading a well-behaved bull terrier passed by. _Only if Desperate!_ thought Danny. He deplored the absence of anyone nice to look at. He knew it was because Muggle teenagers spent hours playing video games instead of going out, having fun and meeting people.

He finished his lunch, dumped the litter and packed the half-empty Tizer bottle in his rucksack. Walking along the park he say a sign indicating:

_Public Conveniences_

He smiled at the politeness and wondered at the plural: Pee and poo? Men and Women? Several cubicles? As usual, thinking about peeing made him want to go.

Danny walked into the convenience. There was a loud banging. Something unusual was happening and Danny would have retired to have a pee in some convenient bush except for his curiosity which led him to walk round the corner. The urinal was to the right and three cubicles to the left. A burly young man hammered on the near door, shouting: 'I am a police officer! Come out!'

The policeman saw Danny out the corner of his eye and spoke to him: 'What are you doing here, son?'

'I need a pee.'

'Well, have your pee and then scoot!'

He turned back as the cubicle door opened and a terrified-looking boy of about fifteen emerged. The policeman flashed an official-looking photocard at the boy and said: 'Your name?'

'P-Piers Polkiss.' He was dressed in smart and flashy tracksuit, trainers and baseball cap. He was about six feet tall but very thin. His face was ugly, rat-like and mean-looking. There was a spatter of teenage acne.

'Well, Piers Polkiss, I am arresting you on suspicion of importuning for immoral purposes. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.'

The policeman took out a pair of handcuffs and then noticed that Danny was still there: 'What are you doing? Didn't I tell you to scoot?'

'I haven't had my pee yet but all in good time. I must tell you that my name is Danny Jorrocks and I am a friend of Piers. Piers came in here for a poo and I came after him. You propositioned us and terrified us so we would have done anything you wanted, and then-'

'What are you on about you little prick? Get out before I arrest you too!'

'If I leave it will be to go straight to the police station and tell your colleagues that Piers went in for a poo and I followed, as he was taking some time, to find you outside the cubicle talking to him. You saw me and felt my penis, saying "Open up! There's room for three!" '

The policeman clenched a fist and took a step towards Danny who shouted: "Whoa! You'll get away with Potation for impertuning little boys, but hit us and it's definitely prison!'

The policeman backed off a little and sneeringly said: 'What about this note, smartarse?'

'What note?'

'This one!' He showed a piece of lavvy paper with writing that said:

_what do you like doing?_

Danny laughed: 'That's from the library. We were talking in writing earlier and we were thinking of going to an adventure playground in London. Now me and Piers are going to leave. I'm sure all three of us have learned our lesson and won't do it again. You can keep the note as a reminder!'

The two of them walked out together, Danny jauntily and the tear-stained Piers tremblingly, but both of them worried that the policeman wouldn't allow such a defeat. They walked quickly, hardly daring to look around. Danny put their fears into words: 'We need to get away somewhere safe—not at yours 'cos they know your name. If you think I'm a good liar and perjurer, you should look at what happens when a few of your police force get together!'

He glanced at Piers who was still quietly sobbing and trembling. He looked as though his knees were about to give way. 'Come on, Piers! Friends or family! Think!'

Piers burbled: 'I-I've shat myself. I c-can't go to my friends.'

Danny said: 'That's what friends are for!'

'I couldn't f-face 'em. And they've all got families.'

'Right. Then how about we go to mine, buy some duds on the way, as mine won't fit, and you could wash and change?'

'No Money.'

'My treat then! Don't worry, it's all under control! Give us a smile Piers!'

Piers managed some lip movement and Danny patted him on the back. 'Look! There's some bushes! Do you want to do a preliminary clean-up there—you know—get rid of the lumpy bits?'

Piers started sobbing again: 'There aren't any lumpy bits.'

Danny hung back and looked at Piers' tracky bottoms. Sure enough, the backside was covered with a tidemarked stain in various shades of brown. The stain had reached a long way down the legs, perilously close to the bottom of one of them. The bright point was that Piers' scrawny bum was really attractive.

Damian wondered for a moment if he could impose on Ms Fay but giggled as he imagined saying _As this boy is an acquaintance of a cousin of a friend of your brother, can he leave some excrement here?_ He glanced at Piers: 'Cheer up! I'm laughing at it now, and later on you'll be laughing too.'

Piers looked as though he would never laugh again, so as they walked to the station, Danny coached him on their story in case they were picked up by the police. This diverted Piers from his state of shock and soon the boys were word-perfect in the enhanced version. Danny walked at four o'clock or eight o'clock of Piers so as to minimise the view to passers-by. This meant that he got an occasional niff, but if a job's worth doing ... Meanwhile, he felt proud that he had accomplished the rescue mission without doing magic. He wondered if the Ministry would have accepted that these were _exceptional circumstances_, in which case underage magic would have been allowed.

They took train tickets for Maidenhead and stood all the way by the doors. The journey couldn't end too soon: Piers' poo was _really_ offensive. At Maidenhead, glory be, they found a supermarket where Danny bought bottoms, undies and bin-liners. Piers had an intermediate change in the supermarket loo while Danny had an enormous pee. They walked slightly roundabout to the station and left a very offensive bin-liner in some soul's wheelie-bin (non-recyclables they hoped).

Waiting at the station, and enlivened by a shot of Tizer, Piers came out of his shell; indeed he was talkative: 'Thank you. thank you, Danny ... Jorrocks did you say? Who are you? You said you were my friend. Have we met before? No. But you did all this for a stranger. And you're so young. I can't thank you enough. And I'll pay back the money. I mean it. That's the second shock I've had in a week. It's a warning. I've treated other people like shit-'

'-and now you've treated me to your own shit!' interrupted Danny laughingly, 'But honestly, there's no need for thanks. I happened to have missed a friend in Whinging, happened to picnic in the park, and happened to need a pee just at the right time. If you want to thank anyone, thank Fate. But tell me, are you a regular visitor to public loos? Is it common with Muggles? I'm gay myself and I can understand going in with a friend, but meeting _strangers_? I've never heard of people doing it.'

'You've never heard of cottaging?'

'What? Oh I see. So you're a _Cottager_?'

'No. Today was my first—and last—time. And what are Muggles?'

Danny was annoyed with himself. He was usually pretty good at security. 'African word for gay. Talking of which, what led you into a cubicle today? Was it just a need for variety?'

'In the sense that one is a change from zero. I've known I was gay since I was eight; never told anyone; never met another one.'

'You have mate, it's just that they haven't told you! Anyway, most boys of our age—I'm thirteen, by the way—go for a bit of cock if they get the chance—at my school loads of boys are seriously gay for a few years and end up being as straight as straight. I suppose sleeping in dormitories helps.

'We have dormitories at Smeltings too. But nobody dares make a move.'

'Why? What would happen? Would they be expelled?'

'No, the teachers wouldn't mind. Even the girls wouldn't mind. It's the boys: to be gay is the worst thing anyone _could_ be. Even when they're only _suspected_, they get twenty-four seven verbal and physical bullying and—God forgive me—I used to join in.'

They paused to allow a man to saunter along the platform, then Danny asked: 'Why should you of all people join in gay-bullying?'

'Protection. Four of us—all weak probably—ganged together with a big strong boy who led us. He's a nasty bit of work—or was—but we didn't dare oppose him.'

'Was?'

'Yeah, that was the shock I told you about. 'One day he was his usual self—we're all from around the Whingings, by the way—and we were going round bullying the little kids, and the next day he told us that we were all bullies and he never wanted to see us again. It was as though we had led him on, but it was him: he was the leader.

'Be honest: you all led each other on. The Muggles call it peer pressure.' (_Damn ... Damn ...Damn!_)

'Yeah. I told you I was a shit.'

'But as soon as you had the chance you recognized it. That's good: lots of people wouldn't have done that! But can't you talk to your family?'

'Joke! My Dad bullies us all—Mum, me and my little sister and brother—and he's the most anti-gay person in the world. I daren't tell anyone. And my sex-life's pathetic: wanking in the bath and peeping at willies in urinals. Then, when I'm so down and disoriented that I feel I must do something, I foul it up.'

'In every sense!' laughed Danny. But I don't think wanking's pathetic and I can't think of a better way of spending a few hours than looking at willies—even in urinals! Listen Piers-' But he was interrupted as the train came in.

They stood throughout the journey as Piers was still a bit niffy. The odour had mellowed, though, to a bearable, malty flavour. Danny stood close to Piers and spoke in his ear above the rattling train-noises: 'Just think: today's the absolute rock-bottom of your life! Things'll get better and the first good thing is that we're really friends. I'll help you in every way I can. Is your hand shitty? Oh, never mind!' And Danny took Piers' hand. Piers looked surprised but allowed Danny to discretely hold it all the way to Paddington.

They took a bus to Oxford Street and found a shop selling the garish clothes favoured by Muggle youth. They managed to buy exact replacements for all Piers' clothes except the tee-shirt, for which they substituted a near miss, and the jacket, which was uncorrupted.

They walked back down Oxford Street and turned into Park Lane, passing Speaker's Corner where Danny had gone, as part of Muggle Studies, to hear some real Muggle eccentrics. As it turned out the speakers here had talked quite sensibly compared to other Muggles.

At the other end of the road Danny led Piers into the revolving doors of the Dorchester.

.

— CHAPTER FOUR —_No Shit!_

'This is your place!' Piers gasped.

'It's a hotel. We've got some rooms here.

'Wow!'

'So now you know why you don't need to repay the money I've spent on you!'

Harry collected his room-key and they took the lift.

'Piers, it's fermenting!' The stench had pervaded the lift.

'Good! I haven't been drunk for ages!' Piers was quite perky now.

They walked down the corridor and Danny opened his door.

'Wait there, Piers.' Danny opened the door to his bathroom and turned on the shower, adjusting it so that the temperature was a stable lukewarm. He returned to the door. 'Now, very carefully and gently walk to the bath and stand in it.'

As Piers complied, Harry closed and locked the door. He also locked the door leading to the sitting room—his mother would probably not be back for hours, but it was as well to be safe. He checked the bedroom floor carefully: all clear.

In the bathroom Piers was looking a bit sheepish as he stood fully clothed in the bath.

'Cap.' Giles handed it over, revealing whitey-blond hair with a short-back-and sides cut in the current teenage fashion. Danny inspected the cap and sniffed it before pronouncing it clean. Similarly, 'jacket' and 'tee-shirt' were passed, both indeed smelling of expensive designer anti-perspirant. Danny took the clean items into the bedroom and picked up a bin-liner. He stood by the bath as Piers carefully took off his trainers, which were indeed polluted, and placed them in the bag. Socks and tracky bottoms followed.

'An unusual strip-tease!' said Danny.

Piers' only response was 'Aaaargh!' as he peeled his underpants from his bum.

'Gently, or it'll go everywhere!' said Danny. 'If you had a hairy bum, this'd be like waxing!'

At last the pants were safely in the bag. 'Wait there.' said Danny as he knotted the bag. He went into the bedroom and enclosed the bag inside another. Taking two more bags, he went into the bathroom to assess the situation—and to assess Piers.

The front bits were nothing special—perhaps shrunken by nerves and the cool Dorchester bathroom; but the back view was sensational: a vulnerable-looking neck which seemed to demand a tender kiss; a bony spine which drew the eyes down to a peach of a bottom, which was not currently at its best. Indeed, Piers was in a dreadful state: much of his bum and his legs were covered with thick, crumbling cakes of poo; streams of fluid had crept down to his ankles. Even Danny couldn't have summoned up an erection at this sight.

He laid two bin-liners on the floor and got Piers to walk gingerly over them into the shower. He handed Piers a cake of luxury soap and closed the shower door. He shook the bin-liner poo-dust over the bath and started washing the bath clean with its shower attachment. He turned the bin-liners inside out and merged them with the bulging bag of clothes in the sitting room. Then he took off all his clothes and walked to the shower.

'I thought I'd give you a hand. I'm a bit sticky too. How's it going?'

'Er-er OK' Piers was nervous.

'Let's have a look.' Piers seemed quite clean. There was a build-up of gunge around the waste-hole, but that was being visibly washed away. Danny walked in the shower and the water rained down on them both. Danny turned Piers round and there was that beautiful bum! It seemed to quiver as the water splashed on it. Danny reached out and squeezed a scrawny cheek. He could feel the bone. Piers' body was very pale but his bum was an especially intense marble-white. He turned Piers around again. Piers' willy had warmed up but was still droopy. His balls seemed to have warmed up too: they were bigger than Danny had expected. He saw, too, that the sack was quite pendulous: Piers' balls hung low.

'Piers, are we going to be friends?'

'Yeah.' In a mumble.

'Well, as it happens, I decided just today that all friendships must start the same way. Please would you kneel down?'

Piers knelt, eying Danny's willy. Danny guessed that he was dubious because he thought he might have to suck it and wondered if he would lose caste by being the sucker rather than the suckee. Danny wondered how he would have got on if his cottaging had been successful and he had had to deal with a stranger. Danny was nervous and his willy was still limp. He had made quite a big decision today and he was going to stick with it. For life!

Mustering his courage, he leant down and pressed his lips against Piers'. No reaction. He pressed harder and started making nibbling movements, pinching Piers' lips between his own. Still no reaction. He quickly stuck his tongue into Piers' mouth as far as it would go. Piers jerked his head back.

'Wha ya doing, man?'

Danny got a glimpse of the bully that Piers had claimed was a role forced upon him.

'For a start, please do this as a favour to me—I think you owe me one. But I think once you get your head round it you'll like it.'

In response, Piers pushed his head forward and pressed his lips against Danny's. Danny put one arm around Piers' lumbar region and one arm at the back of his head. To his pleasure, Piers did some sort of reciprocation. They did lippy kissing for a few seconds then Piers backed away saying 'I've had enough of this water. Let's get dried off.'

Daniel had been thinking in terms of soapy wanking, so he was a bit disappointed but didn't let it show. The two lads wrapped themselves in huge towels and dried their hair and extremities with smaller ones. Then Danny took off his towel and dried his armpits and groin with the dry side. He ditched his towel and leaned over to open up Piers'. Above the rib cage, the nipples were strikingly red against their pale surrounds. He reached out and gently pinched one between finger and thumb. He felt a surge of lust. He pulled off Piers' towel and dried the armpits. These had small tufts of pale brown hair, the same colour as the pubes. He ran the towel down the crack between Piers' lovely cheeks. He wanted sex urgently—even more urgently than in the days when Hogwarts boys had been sucking his willy in the loos.

Piers stared at Danny's stiffie. 'You're quite a man, aren't you?' he said, 'I thought you were a little boy when I first saw you.'

'You're gorgeous!' said Danny, as he rubbed the towel over Piers' balls. 'Come on!'

He led Piers by the hand into the sitting room and guided him into one of the comfy armchairs. In the afternoon sunlight he sat down sideways on Piers lap. As expected, it was a perfect position and he brought his lips against Piers' again. They kissed as before for a few seconds. Then Danny licked Piers' lips and Piers pushed his tongue tentatively into Danny's mouth. The two tongues tickled each other. Piers moaned and Danny could feel a stiff willy beneath him. Piers was holding him tightly as their mouths opened and the kisses became more passionate.

Piers reached down and felt Danny's willy. This had been up and down all day without release and Danny gave a spluttered moan: 'Oh yeah, go on!' Piers obliged with a gentle wanking motion while Danny's body twitched and he licked around the inside of Piers' mouth. His right hand was stroking Piers' neck and with his left hand he reached down to feel Piers' willy. It was Piers' turn to moan and Danny felt himself coming.

His pelvis thrust forward and backward and he reached further to clasp Piers' balls in their tight sack. He felt wave after wave of pleasure as Piers' grip on his willy increased. His body felt fantastic all over and as his little-boy-juice flowed, he sucked at Piers' ear lobe and couldn't stop himself squawking loudly. This was fantastic!

Not pausing for breath, he slid down and took the whole of Piers' willy in his mouth. He had time to notice that it was of average length but thin like Piers himself. It tapered to a small tip that tickled the back of his throat making him gag a little. Bravely he controlled the gag and started sucking hard and moving his head up and down.

Piers moaned again and, holding Danny's head tightly to his willy, started a desperate thrusting movement. Danny was still filled with the warm glow of his own orgasm, and to this was added a different sort of pleasure as his mouth filled up with Piers' pungent, bitter cum. Danny fought to control the coughing and spluttering as he gulped down the juice and as both their bodies relaxed, thought _I've sucked off a boy!_

He felt supremely happy and crawled back to sit on Piers' knee again. He looked down. The bottom half of Piers face was covered in spittle from their long kisses. He looked Piers in the eye and said: 'Wow! Piers!'

'Wow! Danny!' His arms enfolded Danny who slid down and took one of Piers' beautiful nipples in his mouth.

They lay for a few minutes, peacefully intimate, then Danny asked: 'Have you ever kissed a boy before?'

'No. Sorry I was a bit funny, but I thought of what my mates at school would say.'

'Your _mates_ don't sound like real mates to me if they can't accept that people are different.'

'Oh Danny! You don't know what it's like!'

'Anyway, kissing's alright with you now is it?'

'Yeah.'

'And I assume you've never had your willy sucked before?'

'No. And it was brilliant! Not just that, but I keep thinking _I've actually had sex at last!_ I can't thank you enough, Danny.'

'Let me tell you something, Piers. I've never sucked a willy before; I was saving it for a boy I really fancy at school, but he's too busy with his own life and he thinks I'm too young. Then, when we were snogging on the chair, you were so hot that I couldn't stop myself. You should take that as a big, big compliment. You've no idea how many boys at school have asked me.' Danny stretched and kissed Piers on the lips. 'And I couldn't resist Piers Polkiss—how do you spell it by the way?'

Piers told him, and Danny said: 'I like the kiss bit! I've only snogged one boy before, and that was a quickie, so we both need practice.'

'Any time, Danny! Now I need a piss.'

They went into the bathroom, turned off the shower and checked everywhere for leftover poo. Then they had a communal pee, looking at each other's willies and giggling. Danny said: 'Have a poo if you need one!' and they giggled some more.

They got dressed, Piers commenting: 'For obvious reasons, my new clothes are unexciting!'

Danny said: 'Shall we go for a wander? And would you like to stay the night?'

'Would I!? Can I phone home?'

'Yeah—nine for an outside line.'

Danny listened to half the conversation:

'Hello Mum; I'm in London at the Dorchester Hotel—Yes the Dorchester; One of my friends is staying there—Yes they are: very, very—Mum, can I stay the night with him, please?—Danny Jorrocks—You don't know him; we met playing football in the park.—OK—OK—OK; nine o'clock; See you then—Bye, Mum.'

'Piers turned to Danny. 'We're visiting my gran in Northampton tomorrow so I've got to be back at nine in the morning, but otherwise—Wahey!'

Danny complimented Piers' on his fibbing skills and noted his address and phone number to add to the other two. The lads headed out into the sunny London streets.

— CHAPTER FIVE —_**The Science Museum**_

They stood outside the Dorchester.

'Where shall we go?' asked Piers.

'I've read that there's a Gay Village where they don't mind you walking hand-in-hand.'

'Danny! What planet have you been living on? We're underage! We'd be arrested! They _hate_ kids having sex—specially gay sex.'

'Even holding hands?'

'Even holding hands!'

'Then do _you_ fancy anywhere?'

'I know it's silly. But I've always wanted to see the Science Museum and never been able to go there.'

'It's not silly. It's a great idea. Why haven't you been? It can't be more than twenty-five miles.'

'Oh Danny! I told you. You just don't understand. When you're in a gang, taking an interest in anything but cars, football and video games is for girls and gays.'

'Why not invent a girlfriend who lives in London?'

'It's not so much fun by yourself. Besides, word would get back to Mum and Dad and they'd grill me and find out in the end.'

'Strikes me you need another gang; but let's be a gang of two today!'

They hopped the tube for a couple of stops. At South Kensington they bought pizza slices and cola—no Tizer here—and wandered up the road pointing out the sights to each other.

Danny was surprised that entry was free. Once inside, he was overwhelmed: such a lot of stuff! And all relevant to Muggle Studies. He took out notebook and Muggle pen from a trouser side-pocket and jotted down notes and queries. He and Piers talked animatedly about the exhibits and he tried to take care not to betray ignorance of matters which every Muggle would know. He had one slip when Piers saw that he had written _What does Atomic mean?_ Piers laughed and said: 'Everyone knows what _atomic_ means!'

'Yeah, but this is for History.'

They had a fascinating hour and went to the café for an ice cream.

'Whatyer reckon? Enough for one day?' said Piers, licking his lips.

'Yeah: little and often!'

'Like my cum!' said Piers and set them off giggling.

'It wasn't so little today!'

'I was really, really excited!'

'So was I. It's like a dream. I feel so proud that I've had a mouthful of cum!'

'Talking of cum, yours is really watery.'

'Give us a chance! I've only been coming for a month, so I suppose the creamy stuff will arrive any day now.'

'How old are you, Danny?'

'Thirteen years and three months, though I know I look a lot younger. You?'

'Fifteen and a half.'

'And when did you start coming?'

'More than fourteen—Maybe fourteen and a half.'

'And did you have a watery phase?'

'I don't know—I'd got hair for ages before my first wank.'

'Some of the boys at my school could have an orgasm when they were ten—not with cum, but they say with nearly the same feeling.'

'Lucky buggers!'

'Piers, can we talk about girls, please?'

'Girls? I get enough with my mates—alright so-called mates. I have to pretend and I'm not in the least interested.'

'Nor am I, mate—_not_ so-called mate—but I need to think about something that will lose this bloody great erection!' said Danny, and the giggling started again.

In a few minutes they both were decent for public exhibition and they set off for the exit. They passed the toilets and noticed some people splitting off from a group to relieve themselves. Two men went into the male side. 'Come on, gang!' said Danny, 'I think we both need a pee!'

One of the men must have gone into a stall, but the other was in mid-pee when they arrived. They took station one on each side of the man and slowly started their pees with their eyes turned sideways gazing at his willy.

The man finished his pee, rinsed his hands and left quickly. Danny and Piers finished after a few seconds, looking at each other's willies all the while. They adjusted their dress. Piers was OK as all he had to do was pull up his tracky bottoms over a very stiff willy; Danny had great difficulty threading his own stiffie through trouser and boxer short flies. In the end he had to undo his belt and pull his willy in from the inside. The lads were in hysterics. As they went to the door, Danny put his hand on Piers' bum and , with impeccable timing, the man in the stalls let fly an enormous fart and plop.

They had to sit down for a bit to recover before setting off up the road to the park, still laughing as the replayed events.

'See?' said Danny, 'I told you it wasn't pathetic. This cottaging is tremendous fun.'

'Danny, that wasn't cottaging: cottaging is when you go in looking for sex; we just went in to look. I don't know what it's called—Peeping Tomming, maybe.'

'It was still fun, though. Did you see how dark his willy was compared to his hands? Is it because he's a foreigner? Or old? Or has he used it a lot?'

'I don't know. My experience is bugger-all. But before I die, I hope to learn—Oh—Oh'

'What's up? Oh, Merlin's Beard!'

Piers had started to sob.

'It's nothing. I just got this cold, cold feeling. I was so happy and then I remembered that this morning I was going to kill myself.'

'_Kill yourself_!' Danny leaned Piers against the wall of the Royal Geographical Society.

'Yeah. When I was sitting in the loo and that policeman was banging on the door, I was terrified. And then, when I came out and I saw the handcuffs, I couldn't bear the shame and I shat myself and I thought of what my family would say and my mates and the school and I couldn't stand it and I thought of the police station and my shitty trousers. I was going to hang myself at the first chance and then you came and you were so strong and I thought if he can be strong so can I and I felt so cold at the thought that I was so near to death and that's what I feel now.'

Danny pulled out some paper napkins that he had stolen from the Science Museum and gently wiped Piers' eyes and cheeks. 'It's over. It's all over. You just had what I think they call a backflash and it's to help you come to terms with horrible things in the past and it's really over. Oo-er! I've just _got_ to—'

Piers was trembling at the knees. Danny frog-marched him to a little angle in the wall, propped him up against it and took off his rucksack. He extracted his Invisibility Cloak and spread it over them. Then he cuddled Piers hard, rocking him gently and stroking his bum with one hand and his back with the other. He cooed comforting words and dried Piers' eyes again. After a few minutes, Piers seemed more composed. Then, checking for safety, Danny whipped off the cloak and stowed it.

'What the hell's that?' asked Piers, his dark thoughts seemingly passed.

'It's a camouflage cloak used by the American CIA. My dad got it from work. Promise you won't tell anyone or my dad will get the sack and prison.'

Piers looked alarmed and a bit thrilled at being involved in such matters. He even managed a joke: 'So that's what undercover means!'

'Nice one, Piers. Now don't even think about it again!' Danny did not want Piers to need Confunding, as it would weaken memories of what, if Danny could manage it, he would look back on as the most glorious day of his life. 'Let's walk through the park.'

As they walked, Piers reverted to their earlier topic: 'Danny, have you been peeping before.'

'Never really needed to. At our school and in the various, er, circles I move in, you can be quite open—well I am anyway and devil take anyone who's bothered! But you've opened a new world to me and I'm really gonna have fun. I loved the way that bloke jiggled his willy.'

'Yeah, and the little droplets flew off.'

'Yeah, and the neat way he folded it away, though the full-flow bit was good, too. Is he your type, Piers?'

'Yeah, but it's a bit embarrassing. I don't really like to tell you.'

'Merlin's Beard, Piers! Think what we've been through today! Today! It seems like years since we met. Why should you be embarrassed? You can tell me _anything_ and whatever it is, I'll be with you and it'll be part of me.'

Tears welled up again and an alarmed Danny said: 'Oh God, are you going off again!'

'No— No—No. It's just that your kindness is so—well I've never been—'

'Come on! We're both the same now. Spill the beans to Auntie Danny.'

'See? You're there before me. It's about being like a girl. You see, when I think about sex, I think about being screwed by a hunky man.'

Danny laughed: 'Is that it? Piers, believe me: I'm sure lots of your hunky men would enjoy being screwed by other hunky men for a change at least. Lots of gays want variety and lots of gays prefer a single role. And whether the role is getting screwed or doing the screwing, they're still equally valuable men. All this _active_ and _passive_ thing was invented so that some men could believe that they didn't really have a gay side.'

'Do you really believe that, Danny?'

'I _know_ it! And suppose, just suppose that you grew up to be the sort of man who dresses up in high heels and a dress, I would be proud to take your arm and escort you to any function anywhere in the world and say _this is my boyfriend_ or _this is my girlfriend_, whichever you wanted; and, unless they were bigoted, so would any other gay man. And always remember: you are not alone!'

'You're a comfort, Danny! I've never had anyone to talk to, so I couldn't think straight.'

'Is _straight_ really the right word?'

Piers laughed. 'You _are_ a comfort!' and he touched Danny's hand as they walked next to Rotten Row.

'So you fancied that man in the loo?'

'Yeah. What about you?'

'Sort of. I wouldn't say no, but I'd prefer someone a bit younger. He must have been _forty_! Your policeman was hot stuff, though. He could bang me all night if he wanted!'

'That's what I thought when I followed him in.'

'What? _You_ followed _him_ in?'

'Yeah. I'd read about cottaging and I was lonely and depressed so I sat on a bench in the park and watched the entrance to the loo. Then this sexy bloke went in. I waited for a quarter of an hour and he hadn't come out, so I reckoned he was cottaging and I could make contact safely. I went in and the middle door was closed so I went in the near door and sat down. But I didn't know what to say. I coughed but he kept quiet. I had a pen on me, so I wrote that note and he picked it up, left his cubicle and started banging on mine.'

'So you weren't caught by accident! It was a trap! So when I said that he was the one making advances, it was true! My dad's got lawyers who'd make sure that they couldn't convict you without convicting him—and the people who ordered him to sit there too.'

'We might still need lawyers, Danny—they've got our names.'

'Yeah, we slipped up there. But we've got a good story and we're OK if we stick to it. Just remember, if you're ever arrested, not a word without a solicitor present.'

They had reached Park Lane. They crossed at the lights and went though the revolving doors for the second time.

— CHAPTER SIX —_**Red-Hot**_

The receptionist told Danny that his mother had returned. They went up, taking the opportunity to hold hands in the lift, and Danny knocked on the sitting room door. Mrs Jorrocks opened it, beamed and kissed Harry. 'Hello, dear!'

'Mum, this is a new friend, Piers Polkis, who I met today in Little Whinging.'

They shook hands and exchanged _Hellos_.

'You're home early, Mum.'

'I brought some work home.' She indicated a stack of files on a desk

'A likely story! What's that _Which Handbag_ doing?' This was Danny's way of telling his mum that Piers was a Muggle. Wizards could read the true title of the magazine: _Witch and Hag_.

'You've caught me in a rare moment of relaxation. But sit down, boys. Make yourself at home. Aunt Rose and co. are all OK, by the way. They send their love.'

'Before we relax, Mum, can I talk about a couple of business matters with you?'

'Of course, dear.'

'Piers, would you mind waiting in my bedroom? It'll only be a couple of minutes.'

'Of course, Danny.'

The boys went into the bedroom. Harry picked up _Victorian People_. 'Here. See if you find it as interesting as I do.' Then he picked up the dreaded bag of poo. No smell, thank goodness.

'What are you doing with that?'

'Piers, this is London. They've got cameras everywhere and they're always on bomb-alert. Mum'll dispose of it discreetly.'

'But what'll you tell her?'

'She probably won't ask. If she does, I'll tell her something like the truth. Don't worry!'

He patted Piers' bottom and went into the sitting room, closing the door, and put the bag on the floor. 'First, Mum, please Permanently Vanish this.'

Mrs Jorrocks took a wand from a large handbag and, with a swish, removed the bag.

'Thanks. Now this is serious: I found where Harry lived and his aunt told me that he was alone in the house and some friends took him off. They left a note. It sounds iffy.'

'It certainly does.'

'I thought you might send a message to Dumbledore.'

'Good idea. I'll send an owl.'

She flipped her wand to summon a sheet of hotel notepaper from the desk; then a quill pen from her handbag. Writing appeared on the paper:

_Dear Albus,_

_Daniel visited Little Whinging today and learned that Harry Potter is not there. Did you know this? We're worried. Is he OK?_

_Very Respectfully,_

_Wendy Jorrocks_

'There! I'm nearly as good as you at non-verbals as you.'

She touched something at her neck and opened a window. Almost immediately, a tawny owl appeared and, receiving the letter with eagerness, took off with a silent flap of wings.

'Now, tell me about your Muggle friend.'

'I found him in trouble in the Little Whinging park and rescued him.'

His mother raised her eyebrows.

'No magic!' laughed Danny, 'All he knows is that I went to look for a friend and didn't find him.'

'Named?'

'None yet. You choose.'

'John Smith—keep it simple.'

'He might know Harry Potter so we'd better not mention him.

'Aren't we magical folk awful? We love confusing Muggles—even our close friends.'

'Oh and Mum, I used the Invisibility Cloak with him. He took the CIA story OK.'

'Good boy! Now let's set ourselves the challenge of getting through the evening without any Confunding.'

'It _is_ good fun, isn't it?' Danny chuckled. 'Oh, and he phoned his mum from here and she says he can stay the night.'

'Wheel the challenge in, then!'

Danny went to the bedroom. 'Come on in Piers. I'm sorry about that. My Dad runs a big company and there are always crises.'

Piers walked into the sitting room. He was interested: 'He's not _Jorrocks and Company_ is he?'

Mrs Jorrocks said: 'He certainly is, dear. Please take a seat and tell me how a youngster like you heard of _Jorrocks and Company_.'

'It's Dad and some of his friends. They wanted to buy shares but the company's unlisted.'

'We like to keep it in the family.

'Including yourself, if all that paperwork's anything to go by.'

'Yes, that's how I met Stephen: I joined as secretary when the company was run from one room. Then it just grew and grew and love blossomed. Danny is the company's star product!'

'He certainly helped me today, Mrs Jorrocks.'

'I'm glad. Now! Are you boys hungry? Where would you like to eat?'

'I'm not quite dressed for the Dorchester, Mrs Jorrocks.'

'Some of their restaurants are not at all snooty—well, not _very_ snooty.'

'What do _you _fancy, Mum.'

'Do you know? —I fancy what we haven't had for ages: a red-hot Indian curry!'

The two boys smiled, caught each other's eyes, and laughed uproariously.

'What's the big joke?'

'Nothing Mum!'

'When boys laugh about _nothing_, it's usually _something_—something to do with sex or farts!'

This set the boys off again, though Piers looked a little wary.

Danny said: 'Piers, Indians do mild, safe food too. Do you like Indian food?'

'Love it!'

'Then it's a done deal as one of Dad's friends says. Come on Mum!'

They left the hotel and set off along Piccadilly, cutting back across Mayfair. Mrs Jorrocks may have been a very rich lady, but her attire was unflashy and, in her sensible shoes, she set a cracking pace.

They went to a restaurant whose swish decor would probably require decades to pay for itself. The food, though, was out of this world. Mrs Jorrocks had a fiery prawn, chilli and apple dish washed down with Indian beer. The boys played safe with mildly spicy lamb and fifty-fifty fruit juices and water.

Mrs Jorrocks was a sensitive woman: she knew that Piers had had a stressful day, though she didn't know the details. She was careful, then, to stick to neutral topics of conversation, of which the Science Museum was the principal. It was Piers himself who mentioned something he had learned at school, so that the conversation flowed naturally to Smeltings and Little Whinging.

'Who was your friend that you were going to see today?' asked Piers.

'John Smith.' said Danny smoothly, 'I met him playing soccer in the park—like you—sort of.' The boys exchanged a knowing glance.

Danny continued the football theme—he did not want to be grilled about Muggle schools—especially Danny's supposed Muggle school. They maintained the topic for the rest of the meal. Mrs Jorrocks was forbearing, considering that all she new about the game was that some Quidditch robes were sourced from the same Muggle factories in China which produced football kit.

At the end of the meal Mrs Jorrocks paid the bill, though Piers made a gallant effort to pay for his share. Mrs Jorrocks set off for the Dorchester, claiming the need to do a couple of hours' work, though Danny suspected that Muggle TV would prove too much of an attraction.

The boys turned East with the intention of finding a good flick—at any rate they would enjoy a good walk. As they progressed, the road got busier and busier until, by the time they reached Piccadilly Circus, they were surrounded by a crowd of people of every colour, speaking a dozen languages.

Everyone was happy and friendly, especially the men, a number of whom spoke to them—Danny in particular—with utterances that ranged from the simple to the esoteric: _Alright, boys_ ... _Forty?_ ... _Nice night_ ... _Want a lift?_ ... _Looking for business?_

The boys soon realised that they were being propositioned and made their way to the steps at the centre to discuss this exciting development.

'Danny, I think they think we're rent boys!'

'Good phrase!—they rent out their bodies, I suppose.'

'Yeah, and that's what we—they—call boys they beat up at school.'

'So you could actually get paid for cottaging?'

'Yeah, I think the older would pay the younger. Don't you?

Danny considered this. 'Not always!' He was thinking of some of the senior boys he had met at Hogwarts during his two years.

'Anyway, not for me: I've had quite enough excitement for the day! But Danny, I need a pee, so how about a little careful peeping?'

'You're on!'

They made their way down the steps and entered the Tube. Downstairs the loo had dozens of urinals and the two lads selected their targets and homed in.

Danny had picked a middle-aged man in denims which revealed an interesting-looking bum. Unfortunately, the man had nearly finished and Danny caught only a flash of flow, but the jiggling of the nondescript willy was nice. Danny had just started his own pee, keeping it as slow as possible, when he became aware that someone had come to the urinal on his right. He carefully shifted his peep and saw that a small, limp, white willy had appeared _and was being gently wanked_. The newcomer was not peeing and, as Danny continued his pee, he saw the man's willy slowly engorging itself.

Danny did not want to encourage the man, but he kept his pee-rate low and spent a long time shaking out the non-existent drops. By the time he withdrew, his neighbour had a definite semi.

Danny wandered to a wash-basin next to Piers and quietly said: 'Helluva lot of action! Bloke after me. Look!'

They went to adjacent driers and Danny told Piers: 'Watch who I look at!'

They turned round and walked towards the exit. Danny saw his neighbour walking from the urinals. He was fair-haired and looked a ravaged-looking thirty. He was wearing a suit which was also a bit dilapidated. Danny made eye-contact and the man looked at him then looked at the line of cubicles.

The two lads headed for the Shaftesbury Avenue exit and, as they walked up the road, Danny told Piers about his exciting adventure. 'Not that exciting,' he said, 'I didn't get the horn.'

'I didn't get the horn from mine, either,' said Piers, 'but it was good fun—he was slightly ginger and circumcised.'

'Ugh!' said Danny. Wizards instinctively detest circumcision and rely on magical stretching to control phimosis.

Changing the subject, Danny asked Piers: 'Surely, if me and that blond man had gone in a cubicle together, we'd have been noticed?'

'I've thought about that before,' said Piers, 'and I reckon the way to do it is to go in first and only partially shut the door so it looks free. Then, if the wrong man comes in, you just say "engaged" and shut the door in his face. If the right man comes in, he shuts the door behind him and you're ready to go.'

'It's like spells—I mean PE—you've probably got to practise the movements and timing. All this talking has given me the horn _now_, though!'

'Fortunately, we don't need to rely on lavs; we've got your luxury bedroom.'

'Let's go there now.'

'We've got all night. Couldn't we see if there's a decent film?'

'OK, Piers!'

They found a cinema (not far from the Ministry, though Piers didn't know it) Showing a film that Piers thought would be good. It was called _Batman Forever_, and they did indeed enjoy it, though probably for different reasons. Danny thought the plot and the super-heroic powers ludicrous, but revelled in the actors' eccentric performances: these might be over-the-top to a Muggle, but time and again Danny was reminded of wizards that he had met.

They were both aware that someone had taken a seat behind them during the film and that this appearance had not been preceded by the opening of any entrances: someone had shifted seats to be near them. After the day's adventures, they were both sensitive to sexual suggestiveness and guessed the person's aims.

Sure enough, as they rose and turned to depart, a voice behind them purred: 'Enjoy the film, lads?'

It was a _woman_!

'Yes thank you, miss.' said Danny.

She was of foreign appearance but spoke unaccented English: 'What are you doing now? Do you want to come to a party?'

'No thank you.' said Piers.

'We're just off to have red-hot sex with each other.' said Danny.

The woman gaped and allowed them to walk to the aisle without further intrusion. However, as they joined the crowd streaming out of the cinema, they saw a man approaching them on the diagonal with obvious intentions.

They hurried away.

'Sex is everywhere!' said Danny. 'Do you always have this happening to you when you come to London?'

'No, cos I'm always with the family or a gang of five or six lads.'

'This attitude to underage sex is all hypocrisy!'

'Of course it is. And the attitude to gays.'

'Anyway, we two are OK!' smiled Danny, 'Shall we take a taxi?'

'I think the number fourteen bus goes our way.'

They found the right bus stop and went to the top deck, rubbernecking as the bus crawled past the crowded pavements. Two youngish men dressed in smart casuals took the seats behind Danny and Piers. They had clocked the two youngsters and, to Danny's surprise, focused entirely on Piers.

The two men started chatting as soon as they were seated. They had the voices and inflections of middle-aged women and it sounded as though most of their friends were middle-aged women:

'So _she_ said "I'll never go back there again! I was _mortified_!" and _I_ told her "Beggars can't be choosers!" '

'You _never_!'

'I _did_! And her with her hair looking like a fur-ball the cat's brought up!'

'_No_ taste!'

'_Taste_! Have you seen her _curtains_?'

'I _know_! Have you seen Matilda's?'

'We all know who paid for _them_!'

'Well, Marcia told me that Paulina—Ooh! Look at _her_!'

A man was being sick in a shop doorway and Danny realised that all the _her_s in the conversation were really _him_s.

Piers nudged Danny and whispered: 'Bloody poofs!'

'No hypocrisy! They're the same as us,' Danny whispered back.

'They're not! They're visible. They're not real men. They let the rest of us down.'

'They _are_ like us 'cos they deserve to be allowed to live their own lives. Just 'cos they're camp! Now relax and listen to the entertainment.'

The pair behind were indeed entertaining. They resumed their conversation, but broke it off as a skinhead of about eighteen came up the stairs and went to the back of the bus. In fact, the entire top deck stopped talking. The skinhead was tall, pretty and very muscular; in fact, the essence of masculinity.

Into the hypnotised silence one of the _bloody poofs_ injected: 'Butch as they come, but they _all_ squeal when you stick it up them!'

Piers and Danny giggled, and Danny turned to the speaker and said: 'You're like a deponent verb!'

'What's _that_, when it's at home, little boy?'

'Latin. Passive in form but active in operation!'

'Eh? ... Oh! I see what you _mean_. You're a bit _young_ to know about _these _things, aren't you? Does your nice _friend_ speak Latin, too?'

Piers looked embarassed and, his ears having turned pink, left it to Danny to reply: 'Tell me about _Butch_. Is it the opposite of _Camp_?'

'On _top_ of it, usually!'

Three of the party tittered.

'It's a good word!' said Danny. 'We'd like to learn more, but we have to get off soon.'

'My names _Dot_ and this is _Alice_. What's your _interestingly_ shy friend's name? Where does she go when he's not _baby_-sitting? What's she doing _tonight_?' Dot had compressed his chat-up to suit the available time.

'Let him answer for himself.' said Danny. Piers remained pink and silent.

'She's _very_ shy!' said Dot.

'Shy ones are the _worst_!' said Alice.

'Ooh! How would _you_ know? The last shy one _you_ had, you played your _seventy-eights_ to her!'

Alice tittered: 'Ooh, _don't_. You know even the _mention_ of seven or eight brings on me _hot flushes_!'

Piers rose to go and Danny plucked his bottoms: 'Let me go first!'

Danny got up and said, fairly loudly: 'See yer, girls!' then, bending low, whispered: 'Good view coming up!'

Danny led the way down the aisle. He went very slowly to give the _bloody poofs_ a good view of the Polkiss rump—so slowly that the two boys missed their stop.

As the bus pulled away, Piers said: 'Danny—never mind _shy_ I was _so_ embarassed.'

'Why? They were OK; they were a good laugh; and they taught you something important.'

'What?'

'That you are very, very attractive to gays.'

'I don't want to attract them if they make me ashamed to be with them.'

'Why be ashamed? If you went out with a camp boy, yes, people would be laughing and pointing, but that wouldn't mattter: they'd be strangers; nobodies!'

'They might not be strangers—they might be someone I know, or friends of my parents.'

'That's the next battle. Meanwhile, as I said before: we two are OK!'

'Yeah. _Carpe Diem_—I _do_ know some Latin—and the only things worse than deponent verbs are semi-deponent verbs!'

'A good way to remember is ...' and they talked Latin until they were swinging into the Dorchester.

Danny ordered a morning call with tea and toast. They went up in the lift. Danny sniffed and said: 'It's the same lift without the pong.' They popped into the sitting room to say goodnight to Mrs Jorrocks, who appeared from the mess that lay around, to have worked quite hard.

She told Danny: 'Your dad's fine; no message from anyone else, though.'

Then she suggested a nightcap and they sat for ten minutes talking about _Batman_.

At ten o'clock they said goodnight and went into Danny's bedroom.

— CHAPTER SEVEN —_**Even Hotter**_

Danny locked the door behind him and locked the door to the corridor. '_Constant Vigilance!_' he said.

He turned on a Muggle radio channel. 'Thick walls and floors,' he said, 'but doors are a weak point and we don't want to disturb anyone unnecessarily.'

'You've done this before, haven't you?' said Piers.

'No, but I've been trained to be observant, think analytically and act quickly and decisively.'

'Sounds like spy school! What school _do_ you go to, Danny?'

'Talk later. For now, let me help you off with your jacket.'

Then: 'Now would you help me off with mine.'

Then: 'Now let me take off your right trainer.'

'I get the picture!' said Piers, and the lads stripped each other piece by piece, running their hands over areas of flesh as they were exposed.

When they were starkers, Danny drew Piers onto the bed and said: 'It's snog time!'

They lay sideways on the bed. Their open mouths met as they clung together, stroking each other's backs and bottoms. Danny thought that he'd never felt anything sexier than Piers' bony back until his hand found the smooth bum cheeks, bum cheeks underpinned by the bones.

They sucked greedily, pressed their tongues together and wiggled them. They tried to lick around each other's mouths but found that the bottom tongue, especially, was restricted.

'Take it in turns to stick the tongue in!' said Danny and they did that, Danny starting by licking as much of Piers' mouth as he could reach. Exploring Piers like this felt sensationally intimate. Even the curry flavour was nice, though Danny did wonder why he could taste it, considering he and Piers had eaten the same meal.

Piers had a longer tongue and, as it reached far back in his mouth, Danny felt as though Piers was posessing him; as though he and Piers were one.

They carried on for a few minutes. Both lads had the horn, of course, and when Piers gave out a little whimper of pleasure, Danny felt the desire to bugger. He peeled his mouth off and asked: 'Piers! Can I bum you?'

'Oh yes!'

Danny raced to the bathroom and collected a little tube and the two large towels. He spread the towels on the bed and rubbed some cream from the tube onto his willy. He placed Piers face down across the edge of the bed and looked at Piers' wondrous bottom. Leaning forward, he parted the cheeks and looked at the tight little hole: Piers' hidden treasure.

He placed the tip of his willy against the hole and gently pushed. It was a tight hole, but it only had a little willy to cope with and Danny slipped in quite easily.

He looked down and saw Piers' beautiful neck. It looked so vulnerable that Danny felt a flood of compassion. He wanted to protect Piers; to care for him; to make him feel wanted.

He started pushing in and out and bent to kiss Piers on the neck. This felt so good! Better than being sucked; better than wanking.

He wanted it to go on forever but was too excited: he came, and as he was coming, it seemed to him that he had reached the ultimate Heaven. He came to a stop with his tongue licking Piers' neck. He felt dizzy, but some part of his cognition still functioned and knew that this was his third orgasm of the day and decided that he should aim for three-a-day for the rest of his life.

He lay relaxed, savouring the fact that he had really screwed the boy whose warm body lay clasped in his arms. But Piers had not come and Danny decided to give him a very special present. He pulled out and stood up, drawing Piers to his feet. He squeezed some of the tube onto Piers' willy smoothed it gently all over. He muttered _Sorry, Harry!_ and spoke to Piers: 'Stick it up, mate!'

Danny had a smaller, tighter bumhole than Piers, and Piers had a bigger willy, but his small, pointy glans guided the shaft in, causing no more than a couple of twinges to Danny.

Piers was keen! No sooner had he mounted Danny than he was bouncing at an incredible rate. Danny assumed that Piers was coming, but he was going, and kept going at two and a bit strokes per second for ages. When he finally came it was with a series of slow strokes culminating in a breathless collapse onto Danny's back.

They stayed like that for a few minutes while Piers got his breath back.

'Y'OK?' said Danny.

'Mmm!' said Piers.

'You should be proud: I was saving up bumming—both ways—for the boy I fancy at school, but the Piers Polkiss Penis-Puller was too much for me.'

'Mmm!' was all the panting Piers could manage.

They lay still for a few minutes Before Danny wriggled and said: 'Come on cutie! Early start tomorrow.'

They tidied away the towels, washing away the odd stains. Piers picked up the tube of lubricant. It was called_ Savlon_. 'I thought this was antiseptic cream.' he said.

'Good lubricant too.' said Danny, 'I had a tip from a couple of schoolfriends. There's a lot of bad diseases going round so you get protection as well as lubrication—not that we needed it, of course—but you always need an antiseptic around the house and two-in-one makes sense.

'They got into bed and snuggled up close.

'Sorry I'm not very hunky and sorry I couldn't screw you for longer,' whispered Danny, 'but it felt so good to be inside you, ramming you, squirting in you.'

'Danny, it was brilliant! You can do it whenever you want. All that _hunky_ stuff is only fantasy.'

'We could have tried to make it reality and picked up that bloke on the bus.'

'Who, Dot?'

'No, idiot! That skinhead—is he your type?'

'Absolutely perfect!'

'Talk us through your fantasy, then.'

'It's too kinky.'

'Come on, I'm your friend! Kiss and tell!' Danny pressed his lips to Piers'. Let's say you get off the bus. He follows you and you turn to face him ... what then?'

'He slaps me about a bit and calls me a filthy slut. Then he drags me into some bushes and makes me take off all my clothes. We're standing up and he pulls me to him. He holds me tight with one hand and spanks me hard with the other.'

'On the bum?'

'Yeah, on the bum; and he goes on spanking me hard for a long time. Then he turns me round and bends me over a branch and rams his huge cock inside me and my bumhole feels as though it's on fire. And then he screws me really hard and he's slapping me and calling me names and twisting my nipples till they feel as though he's pulled them off. And he's biting my neck and drawing blood and he's still screwing me and this goes on for hours and hours. Then he comes inside me with terrific force and he slaps me some more and throws me to the ground and spits at me. The he sprays gallons and gallons of piss all over me ... That must sound really weird to you, Danny.'

'Not in the least!' lied Danny, 'I could live with that. The trouble is: if either of us tried to do it in reality, we might end up robbed and murdered.'

'I know. But maybe one day I could do it with someone I knew—not a stranger.'

'And afterwards, when he kissed you and called you his little pet, that would be OK, wouldn't it?'

'Yeah! And having him as a nice, loving friend would be exciting because I'd know that he was a volcano waiting to explode.'

'Perhaps I'll grow up to be a hunk, but before that you'll meet some of my hunky friends.

'Danny, I don't want you to think that it wasn't brilliant with you ...'

'Brilliant for me with you, too. Do you realise we each lost three kinds of virginity today?'

'Helluva day! I've been to Hell and now I'm in Heaven!'

And the two little angels fell into peaceful and sweet-dreamy sleep.

— CHAPTER EIGHT —_**Madame Tussaud's**_

Next morning Danny's wristwatch alarm woke him at a quarter to seven. Piers was lying diagonally across the bed sucking Danny's nipple which seemed rather sweet. He gently disengaged and slithered off the bed. Piers was lying face-down and Danny spent some seconds enjoying the sight before leaning over and parting the cheeks of the wondrous bum. There was the neat little hole and Danny said aloud: 'I've come up that and I'll come up that again and again.' He ducked forward and kissed one cheek, then the other. He kissed the hole and gently shook Piers awake.

Bleary eyed, they staggered to the shower. They used two cakes and soaped each other down. They took especial care of the genitals of course, and Piers had another squeaky orgasm, dropping his soap and clutching Danny to him while Danny rubbed Piers' willy two-handedly. Piers, delighted with this new variation, did the same to Danny who Squeaked out: 'Oh! Yeah! Nice one Piers,' as his invisible cum was washed away.

They helped each other to dry. Piers dressed in his Muggle chavsuit but Danny just wrapped himself in a white, fluffy Dorchester dressing gown. Danny opened the curtains on another lovely day and they sat on a sofa watching the TV news until there came a knock at the door. Piers scampered into the bathroom and shut the door.

'Come in!' called Danny and a waiter—_that_ waiter—entered with a tray of teas and toast.

'Good morning, Sir!'

'Good morning, er, what should I call you?'

'Joe, Sir.'

'On the table please.'

Joe put the tray on the table and turned: 'Will there be anything else, Sir?' He was almost ogling the so-nearly-nude Danny.

If Piers had been not lurking and Danny's balls had not been empty, Danny might have been up for it, but as it was—'No thanks Joe, I've got to be out early today.'

'Thank you, Sir.'

'Thank _you_.'

As soon as Joe had left, Piers emerged and breakfasted, Danny assuring him: 'Mum and me'll have a proper breakfast soon.'

At Piers' insistence, Danny had half a slice of toast and some sips from Piers' cup.

Danny said: 'Piers, you're my friend now and you're a needy friend. I'm gonna have a think how we can get your life sorted—even if it's just teaching you how to cottage properly.'

'I don't think I'll be cottaging with you about, Danny!'

The two lads smiled, then Danny said: 'I'll ring you tonight: what time will you be back?'

'Not late: Gran likes to get settled in early—say around seven.'

'OK, I'll try at eight.'

'Now I'd better go. Can I borrow this, Please?' picking up _Victorian People_.

'Of course! Have you got your fare?'

'Yeah, thanks. Danny, thank you for everything—everything!'

'Friendship and fun! And walk tall: your botty is a penis-magnet'

They kissed and Piers left.

Danny dressed slowly and waited in the sitting room for his mother, who appeared promptly at eight o'clock. They had some breakfast sent up and, while waiting, talked about Harry Potter.

'No reply from Professor Dumbledore?'

'Not yet, but he always spends some of the summer _incommunicado_. This summer I suspect that he's sleuthing Scumbag and the Death Eaters.'

'You don't think he's being held by the Ministry?'

Mrs Jorrocks snorted. 'Definitely not! The Ministry illustrates Stephen's dictum that _plus de_ bureaucracy, _plus de_ incompetence. Dumbledore would sort them out with half a blink of his eye!'

Danny agreed.

Mrs Jorrocks left for work at a quarter to nine with a _You will use your comb this morning, won't you dear?_ and Danny went back to his bedroom and took two books out of the wardrobe. Unusually for a British wizard, they were Muggle books: a Chinese dictionary and a Chinese adventure story about the Monkey King. Monkeys were Danny's favourite animal and reading about them was an enjoyable way of building on the lessons that he had had from his Chinese tutor.

China was big now. Mr Jorrocks had found out that a lot of wizard land in China contained things called Rare Earths. These were useless rocks that, for some reason, were attractive to Muggles. Mr Jorrocks encouraged Danny to add National Chinese to his—at least working—knowledge of English, Russian, Latin, Ancient Greek, Demotic Egyptian, Gothic, Old Norse and Aramaic. He also had enough words in modern Germanic and Romance languages to make himself understood.

He was passing the bed to put the books on a table when he noticed a small, but unmistakeable, cum-stain on the sheet. He knew what cum-stains were like as he had had plenty on his clothes over the last two years. These were easily Scourgified clean.

He was annoyed now as, because of what Piers had said about the Muggle attitude to underage sex, he had taken great care to protect the sheet with towels and clean the towel-stains afterwards.

He examined the stain—it was from Piers, of course—and he saw that it was a browny colour which indicated exactly what had happened during the night: someone had been bummed and the someone's bumhole had leaked afterwards.

A Scourgify was out of the question, so Danny put the accident out of his mind, feeling fairly confident that the hotel staff didn't double as sex-police. Still: _Constant Vigilance_, as the Hogwarts watchword had been last year!

He settled down with Monkey for half an hour, then spent the same amount of time with a N.E.W.T.-level book of Charms.

Just after ten o'clock, he stowed his books and went downstairs. He took a Tube to Warren Street and set off to walk to Madame Tussauds. At no stage did he deploy a comb.

About six-hundred years ago, a powerful wizard family named Verpapot lived in a palace situated in a rural area two miles West of what was then London. There were two sons: the elder, Guillaume and the younger, Henri. Henri was the heir, as Guillaume was a squib.

Guillaume was an unpleasant young man, envious of his brother and insisting on receiving the precedence due to an elder brother in all non-wizarding matters. So, when Henri was presented with a fine goblin-made sword for his seventeenth birthday, Guillaume insisted on being given _two_ swords. This was viewed by all the family as a great joke, as Guillaume was a cowardly weakling who would have been terrified had he ever been called to use a sword in anger.

Guillaume was a given a nickname which acquired universal fame throughout the wizarding world. It is still said of someone who shows cowardice coupled with unjustifiable self importance that _He's a right Billy Two-Swords_.

Guillaume was maddened by this mockery, and it is dangerous to madden nasty people: having hidden all available bezoars, Guillaume contrived to poison his entire family at a Christmas feast and so inherit the palace.

His dying father had, however, managed to place a curse on Guillaume so that he would always be known as Billy Two-Swords.

Billy Two-Swords only held the palace for a year before losing it in a game of cards—newly-introduced to the country—with a man called Fletcher. The card that lost him his fortune was _The Two of Swords_.

Billy was reduced to being the privy-cleaner in what had been his own palace. When he died, he was thrown into the cess-pit which was thereafter called _The Billy Two-Swords_.

Eventually, the palace fell into the hands of the newly created Ministry of Magic who moved into the castle proper and extended the dungeons to form the wizard prison—the fore-runner of Azkaban.

The Ministry later moved the palace to premises closer to London and sold the land to Muggles, retaining the dungeons as a prison. The curse, though weakening over the centuries, stayed with the land and the Muggles who bought it were acting under it.

In Victorian times, Madame Tussaud's waxwork museum took over the premises. The wizard prison was still there, invisible and inaudible to Muggles, of course. Nevertheless, it was perhaps the proximity of suffering witches and wizards that prompted Tussaud's to locate a Chamber of Horrors in the lowest Muggle level. And, even after the prison had been relocated to Azkaban, every Muggle who spent a night in the Chamber went mad. The magic was too Dark for the Ministry to remove and the best that they could do was to confund Muggles into believing that the terrible rumours were all old wives' tales.

After the relocation, the Ministry had seven floors of empty dungeon and in the early twentieth century put them to good use: wizards and witches could pay an entrance fee and practise magic in a safe environment under supervision of skilled Minders. This was especially suitable for those underage, as only the privileged could obtain permission to practise magic at home during the school holidays.

Danny reached Madame Tussaud's (_Madame Tussauds _to Muggles) and entered a door by the emergency exits. The door appeared plain red to Muggles, but Danny could read:

_Madman Two-Swords Centre for Wizarding Perfection_

He approached Reception and told the tarty-looking witch in charge: 'Large spellspace for Jorrocks please, Germanica.'

'Eleven Sickles please, and would you like to finger my fanny?'

Danny paid and ignored the invitation.

Germanica had once been unfaithful to her husband who had found her out and cursed her so that she always solicited sex and never actually got any. The governors of Madame Tussauds gave her a job on their front desk as a provider of a useful and safe form of sex education for the younger customers and a pleasant _frisson _for the older ones. At the request of many witches (and wizards), The _Daily Prophet_ ran advertisements for males to share Germanica's duties but the only replies to-date had been from known loonies and molesters.

Danny paid over the money, descended two flights of stairs and walked through a door labelled _Large Spellspace 23_.

He was in an empty room about the length of a cricket pitch and twice as wide and high as two Muggle garages. In the middle of one side, like a tennis umpire, a bored-looking wizard sat on an elevated chair. He perked up when he saw Danny.

''Morning, Sir!'

''Morning! _Stupefy!_'

The spell dissipated itself harmlessly and the Minder chortled: 'Nice one, Sir but nobody's broken through yet, Sir!' The Minders were _very_ well protected.

Danny took out his wand and dumped his rucksack. He threw his big, yellow comb to the centre of the room and limbered up with some simple Transfigurations: the comb became in turn a chisel, a cup, a metronome and a wallet. Then he went organic, producing a packet of chewing gum, a loaf of bread and a plate of roast beef, Yorkshire pud, roasties and sprouts, with a dollop of horseradish sauce shaped like a set of male genitalia.

Minders were not meant to comment, but this one could not resist a _Well done, Sir!_

Now it was time for some serious stuff: Danny produced an earthworm, a grasshopper, a mouse, a lizard, a badger, a stag (Harry forever!) and an elephant. He tried for a mouse but produced only a cat-sized elephant.

He started again and went from comb to elephant to mouse, but his mouse was still too big and very elephanty. He tried for five minutes, but his mouse still had a tiny trunk. _Next time!_ he said to himself.

He spent the next quarter of an hour on creative magic: he could produce a variety of objects and creatures but was struggling to improve Permanence.

He moved on to dynamic magic, spending some time Levitating his comb and spinning it through varied axes. Then he Levitated himself and produced a wind that wafted him gently along the spellspace.

From the far end he Apparated back and the Minder barked: 'No unlicensed Apparting!'

'I wasn't Apparating; I just moved to fast to be seen.'

Danny had had this conversation before.

He practised Apparating and Levitating in combination and then, thinking of the day, which would surely come, when he was bumming Harry: _expecto patronum!_

A stream of silver mist appeared from the tip of his wand and formed the appearance of a monkey. He sent it scampering to the far end, its tail held high like a banner, and tried to beat it there by Apparating. He lost but, after a few more attempts, improved his speed and precision so that he could see the monkey racing to his side.

It was just in time: the Minder called 'Yer hour's up!' and , dismissing his Patronus and thanking the Minder, Danny gathered his stuff and left.

At the front desk, Germanica was inviting a quivering witch to bite her left buttock. Danny wondered if the quivering was due to sexual excitement. He smiled as he thought of the urban myth about witches who left their drawers off when flying broomsticks and were, at the end of every flight, available to anybody.

He left Madame Tussaud's thinking of the Creevey brothers. If the Muggle superstition about _Genes_ were true, there was probably a gene for Evil, and Danny knew that Colin and Dennis had been born deficient in it.

Danny had time to spare so, instead of using the Floo Network, he took the Tube to Oxford Circus and Totty Court Road. Emerging into the hot noonday sun, he walked down the road and passed the leftie record shop, where one of his dad's Russian friends dumped dodgy records of dodgy music. He looked at the book shop, some of whose stock was so old that, rather than risk being caught shoplifting, Muggle students simply carried books up to the second-hand department on the top floor and sold them. Between the two shops was the seediest-looking pub in London

— CHAPTER NINE —_**Diagon Alley**_

Danny walked into The Leaky Cauldron and was greeted by Tom the barman.

'Master Daniel, pleased to see you!' As ever, Tom didn't look at all pleased.

'You're looking well, Tom.' A dreadful whopper.

Tom sighed. 'Difficult times, Master Daniel.'

'Could I have a bottle of pumpkin juice, please? I'll drink it as I go.' The Leaky Cauldron was too dark and gloomy for this lovely, sunny day.

He payed Tom and, with relief, made his way through the brick wall into the Alley. He made straight for Eeylops Owl Emporium and had an enjoyable few moments looking round.

'OK to go up, Sir?' he said to the birdlike old man in charge.

'Go on, son.'

He raced through the shop and ran up the stairs fingering one of the small medallions that hung round his neck. He passed the huge roost-room where several owls were sleeping peacefully. At the top was a sort of garden of roosts and containers to feed and water the owls. For a small fee, visitors to the Muggle world could quarter their owls at Eeylops Owl Emporium where they would be looked after and summoned to duty if necessary by an owl-charm. A spell-field rendered owls invisible to Muggles within a radius of five miles.

Danny sat down on a bench—kept clean with a Permanent Purity Charm—and, almost immediately there was a light thud on his knee.

'Hello, Tickles!'

Tickles was his owl. Now, Little Owls are the most cross-looking creatures in the avian world, but they are also very intelligent and very loyal. Danny stroked Tickle's neck and the bird shook it's head. Harry changed to a gentle tickle and Tickle seemed to judder with pleasure—that was how he got his name, though Danny apologised for his mistake in the usual way: 'That was only a test, Tickles!'

At that moment, there was a thump on the bench beside him. A very superior-looking Tawny Owl had landed.

'Hello, Hesperus!'

'The owl gave no indication that it had heard him. Hesperus knew that he was Mr and Mrs Jorrocks' favourite owl, always accompanying them on their journeys. He ignored Tickles as well, but Danny knew that they were friends because they sometimes shared mice and voles. Hesperus didn't have a message so he had just come along to be sociable.

Danny sat for a few minutes talking to the owls and telling them of his various lost virginities. Then: 'I must go' I'm going to see Ollie.'

The birds took off and flew towards the Park and Danny went downstairs.

He made his way to Quality Quidditch Supplies to look up his old friend and fellow Gryffindor Oliver Wood. Oliver was on the books of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team and supplemented his income by assisting at QQS.

Danny entered the shop. Oliver was talking to a customer and the senior assistant came up to Danny and said: 'Sir! How may we assist you?'

'I just wanted a word with Mr Wood thanks.'

'Certainly, Sir! He should be free shortly.'

Danny wandered around looking at the displays. He was not in the least interested in Quidditch (Quidditch _players_ were another thing, though) and not even interested in broomsticks as he owned a magnificent Siberian model which was, in his view, unsurpassable. Anyway, he reckoned that with hard study and practice he would eventually be able to fly without a broomstick.

The customer left after a few minutes and Oliver came over and shook hands.

'Daniel! What an unexpected pleasure!'

'Hi Ollie! A private word, please.'

'Mr Walton: wedding arrangements. Can I talk to Daniel in the workroom, please?'

'Of course, Mr Wood.'

They went through the rear door, down a passage and into a room with a large workbench in the centre. The room was cluttered with twigs, handles and brooms in all sorts of conditions.

Oliver closed the door and stood with his back to lifted his robes and pulled out a stiff, chunky willy that was entirely in keeping with the big, burly man that he had become.

Danny unzipped himself and Oliver stooped, but Danny pushed him upright and sat on the bench. Oliver waddled over and Danny moistened the willy and stuck it through the gap in his trousers and boxer shorts so that it pressed against his own stiff willy.

He started stroking Oliver's willy and Oliver gasped and held Daniel's shoulders tightly. Danny luxuriated in the feel of the heavily-veined staff. He could feel it twitching and increased his stroke. He squeezed harder and his finger and thumb met for the first time. Oliver gave a number of powerful judders, grunting as he did so, and Danny felt a ferociously hot flood of cum pouring onto his privates. He slowed to a halt as Oliver stroked his face saying: 'Merlin's Beard! I needed that! And Danny, you haven't lost your touch! I wish I were back at Hogwarts! Do you still do that?'

'I'm a bit more mature, if you know what I mean, and I aim to branch out this year.'

As they adjusted themselves, Oliver said: 'There'll be lots and lots of lucky boys at Hogwarts! I suppose they _are_ boys—you're not ...?'

'No fear!'

'Well, that was wonderful! You've made my day!'

'That wasn't what I actually came for, Ollie. I came to ask you a favour, though it's sort of connected.'

'Ask away!'

'I've got a Muggle friend—'

' —Be careful, Danny!'

'Yeah, don't worry. The thing is, he's had a tough life and I want to help him enjoy himself a bit more. Could you meet him sometimes and show him a bit of friendship?'

'Whatyer mean, Danny?'

'Be a he-man; give him a good bumming.'

'Danny, I'm getting married in a month!'

'That's OK; with women, don't you get time off for bad behaviour once a month? Well, you can do your bad behaviour with Danny—and sometimes I'd like to come too, if you'd let me.'

'I don't know. It's always risky having Muggles around. How old is he?'

'Fifteen.'

'You know what Muggles are like about age.'

'Yeah. Fudge should speak to the Muggle Prime Minister about _Children's Rights to Sexual Freedom_! But Ollie, nothing'll happen that can't be put right with a little light Confunding.'

'And I might not like this Muggle.'

'Oliver! We're Gryffindor! We don't go in for disliking people.'

'I meant fancy him.'

'You will. When you see his sweet little bum, you'll want to go for it like a gnome up a drainpipe. Try it anyway. Just for me. Remember the two years of fun you had with me.'

'You enjoyed it too, even though you were a little boy.'

'Of course I enjoyed it! And I reckon you'll enjoy this!'

'OK, then Danny. Can't make tonight. Tomorrow?'

'I'll be in touch. We'll meet up socially, the three of us, and take it from there.

They went out to the shop and said goodbye, Danny saying loudly: 'Remember there may be one extra at table!'

'Oliver waved and said: 'I'll tell Mum!'

Danny turned right out of QQS to look browse Magical Instruments, but he turned back: out of the corner of his eye he had caught a glimpse of a familiar figure entering the Apothecary's.

He padded along the street and stood at the open door. Concentrating hard, he pointed his wand: _Legilimens!_

All he had was a vision of blackness. Then he saw Professor Snape staggering a little. Snape, without turning, said: 'Very good, Jorrocks; but not good en—_ Legilimens!_'

Danny had a flash of Piers as he had last seen him, smiling and waving as he left the bedroom. He manage to Occlude it quickly.

'What did you see?'

'I did not hear a proper address.'

'Come on, Snapey, we're not at school. What did you see?'

Snape had probably never been so addressed in his life—even by his friends at school—if he had any. But he was so interested in the subject that he condescended to answer: 'A tall, blond boy, vaguely seen, but enough for an enemy to use.'

'Can I please have some more lessons this year—Professor?'

'Possibly. My duties as Potions Master are exigent.'

'Are you here to restock, Sir?'

.'No, Jorrocks. We are well-stocked.'

'It's the hols, Sir, you should call me Daniel or Danny.'

'I will call you Jorrocks.'

'If you're well-stocked, you must be looking for something extra, Sir. Perhaps our company can get you some.'

That will not be necessary—they have Sneezewort here—Used for?'

'Modern Confusing and Befuddlement Draught.'

'First concocted by?'

'Horace Slughorn.'

'In the year?'

'1946—the last time you gave any points to Gryffindor.'

Snape ignored the slur: 'Jorrocks, you are too clever for Gryffindor.'

'It's never too late to develop a noble spirit, Sir.'

'Jorrocks, being clever can be dangerous. Don't be tempted to meddle. Stick to your lessons and stick to your—harmless leisure activities. Goodbye.'

Danny twitched his wand. Snape was poised for defence but allowed a bright red rose to pin itself to his cloak. It was probably the first time anyone had given him a flower.

'Goodbye, Professor Snape.'

Danny strolled to the Magical Instruments shop and looked round for ten minutes. He left the shop and stood in the road. He had half an hour before meeting the Creeveys, so he decided to potter around to see if any other Hogwarts pupils were there. He was enjoying the gratifying wetness of his private parts. A little had trickled down his left leg. He smiled to himself as he thought of Piers' state on the previous day.

He started strolling and immediately saw Seamus Finnigan sitting with a woman who must be his mother. They were sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour.

'Seamus!'

'Danny!'

An introduction was made and hands were shaken.

'Are you getting Seamus' school stuff, Mrs Finnigan?'

'I'm not sure that Seamus will need any. He may not be going back to Hogwarts.'

'Oh that's very, very bad news! We can't not have Seamus! Don't leave us, Seamus.'

'It's a matter of safety.' said Mrs Finnigan, 'have you read the _Prophet_?'

'No. It's a rag!'

'Well most people _do_ read it and are worried about the state of Hogwarts.'

'Hogwarts'll be fine with me and Seamus there. Won't it, Seamus?'

'I'm OK going back.' said a depressed-looking Seamus.

'Well we'll have to see. Now I must go to Gringotts. Are you coming Seamus?'

'The ride'll sick me after that big ice-cream. I'll stay and talk with Danny.'

'_Ceart go leor_. I know you're a good boy. I'll be about quarter of an hour, Seamus.'

'OK, Mam.'

'Why not meet in the Leaky Cauldron?' said Danny, 'The Creeveys are arriving there soon.'

'Alright, boys. See you there.' And Mrs Finnigan crossed the road towards Gringotts.

'Please stay with us, Seamus.'

'I'll talk her round. But I'm not happy.'

'Trust me, it's a load of nonsense! Anyway, I know you Celtic folk understand about Fate. Me and you meeting today is Fate.'

'How so?'

'Listen Seamus: I've got a boyfriend.'

'That's OK with me. Lots of boys are gay. I aint gay, though.'

'Yeah, but yesterday we were snogging and I'd never snogged before and neither had he, so could you give me a quick lesson? Practical, I mean demonstrate on me.'

'Why don't you find some other guy? I aint gay.'

'Oh Seamus, it's not a matter of being gay. It's about technique. It's about helping a friend and the girls in Hogwarts say you're the hottest kisser ever. I couldn't ask for a better teacher!'

Seamus looked quite pleased at this: 'I'd say yes, then, but we can't do it here and I'm not going in the lavvy with you like these seniors do and we can hardly take a room at the Cauldron for a quarter of an hour.'

'Invisibility Cloak.'

'You've got an Invisibility Cloak?'

'Yeah. And I know just the spot. Come on!'

They rose and Danny lead Seamus down the road for a few yards, then turned off.

'I'm not going down Knockturn Alley!' said Seamus, stopping.

'Just a little way: see that bit of waste after the second house?'

'OK.'

'They walked a little way then stopped to let a scruffy youth pass, but he didn't pass. He walked up to them and said: 'You'll do OK—specially the little one. Do you want a manager—only thirty percent?'

'No we don't!' said Danny, 'Now go away.' He took off his rucksack.

But the youth stayed: 'Things can get rough here. I've got some very big friends.'

'Oh, for Heaven's sake!' said Danny, 'Life's too short—_Confundo!_'

The youth turned and set off in his original direction, reeling slightly.

'Good spell! What was he going on about?' asked Seamus.

'Don't ask _me_!' He flung the Invisibility Cloak over the two of them and they walked to the ugly bit of wasteland.

They found a sloping bit to equalise their heights and were soon locked in a tight embrace. Their mouths met and under Seamus' guidance, they deployed lips, tongues, teeth, gums, hard and soft palates and all the other bits whose names are known only to doctors and dentists. They sucked softly and violently. Hands stroked all over necks, heads and bodies. Danny found the hint of tobacco a welcome bonus.

They snogged for about ten minutes. Danny was too busy taking mental notes to get excited, but he knew that Seamus had the horn as it was pressing hard against him. Seamus was making little _Mm!_ noises and the boys broke off as he reached inside his robes saying: 'Sorry, Danny, but I've got to—'

Danny stopped him, unzipped his fly and said: 'Seamus! Stick it right through my trousers and pants!'

Seamus lifted his robes and wanked over Danny's willy as Danny held him tight and snogged him hard. It didn't take long for Seamus to come, and Danny felt a good few squirts refreshing Oliver Wood's contribution. Seamus was muttering 'Yeah! ... Yeah! ... Yeah!'

They stood for a few seconds, then tidied themselves and nosed their way into Knockturn Alley. It was clear so they removed the Invisibility Cloak and set off for the Leaky Cauldron.

'Good wank, Danny! Why was my breath like my willy?'

'Don't know.'

'They both came in short pants!' Danny punched Seamus' arm as the boys giggled.

'But I aint gay!' said Seamus.

'For goodness sake Seamus. Don't you know your Maths? You had good sex instead of nothing. So that makes it infinitely better! If a girl would be better still for you, so what?'

'There's something in that.'

'And next time wear Muggle clothes. They're much more convenient.'

'Not when you've got a girl.'

They reached the Cauldron and settled on a comfy sofa by the huge fire. Mrs Finnigan joined them shortly, preceded by a cheerful, jingling sound.

'They're worried in Gringotts, too.' she said gloomily.

'Oh Ma, it'll be alright!'

'I just don't know.' and she sat in a morose silence.

The boys couldn't talk about anything to do with Hogwarts, so they talked football. Danny didn't care for Quidditch but he was a mild football fan and enjoyed playing with his Russian friends.

After some minutes, the fireplace flared and Dennis emerged shouting: 'Danny! Danny! Danny! And Seamus!' He ran and hugged then and circled like a puppy dog.

Colin followed immediately and gave a similar performance. Then came a little boy of about eight years old. His face lit up when he saw Danny: 'Danny! did you see? I Flooed solo!'

'Jolly good!' said Danny.

Mrs Creevey appeared immediately. She was mousey-coloured, but not mousey in character. She quietened the boys easily and shook hands with Mrs Finnigan.

'Pleased to meet you, Mrs Finnigan! Hello Danny!'

'Oh, Mrs Creevey: are you sending your boys back to Hogwarts?'

'Of course! There's enough hard work with four left at home. I don't want to have another two—unhappy ones at that.

'We wouldn't be unhappy, Mum, would we, Dennis?'

'No. But Mum would!'

'Clever Dennis!' said Mrs Creevey. She turned back to Mrs Finnigan and said: 'The boys know we're so proud—we've got four and a half so far wizards or witches out of six.'

'I'll be going to Hogwarts in three years, Mrs Finnigan.' said Geoff, 'And I'm helping Dad with his milk round!'

'_Cool_!', '_Brill_!' from his brothers.

'But have you been reading the _Prophet_, Mrs Creevey?' asked Mrs Finnigan?

'Oh, we don't take the _Prophet_, bless you. We're Muggles.'

'Muggles!' Mrs Finnigan was amazed, 'But the Floo ...'

'The Ministry's been very good to all the Muggle parents. We get a lot of support. They put us on the Network as soon as Colin got his place at Hogwarts.'

'Then you don't know that the _Prophet_ says Dumbledore's out of control and Harry Potter—'

Mrs Creevey laughed and interrupted: 'Oh I know what the _Prophet_'s been _saying_ and my boys tell me it's nonsense which is good enough for me. Are you not letting Seamus go back then?'

'I just don't know. We're here to visit Gringotts and we're staying with my brother's in-laws and they've got friends who work in the Ministry so I'm going to talk to them. In fact we're getting late. Come on, Seamus!'

'Oh Seamus! Stay and have a game of Whish!' said Danny, with the Creevey boys adding encouragement.'

'Mum, can I stay too?' asked Geoff.

Out of the Babel of voices, Mrs Finnigan's rose supreme: 'No, Seamus, we've all got to talk about it.'

The Finnigans made their farewells. Mrs Finnigan took a pinch of Floo powder from the mantel and, holding Seamus firmly, stepped into the fire calling out _Sir Colin Campbell_. With a flash they vanished.

'We'd better be off too, Geoffrey.' said Mrs Creevey, Now boys! Five o'clock! And don't be tempted to let them Hagrid you!'

There was a further confusion of goodbyes and irrelevant chit-chat before Geoff and Mrs Creevey vanished to _190 Cleveland Tower_.

'What did she mean about Hagridding you?' asked Danny.

'We haven't eaten yet—'

'—because we wanted to eat in Muggle London—'

'—if _you_ don't mind, Danny—'

'—have you eaten, Danny—'

'—you can watch us if you have—'

'—and you can have some of mine—'

'—but we can go into the Alley if you want, Danny—'

Rather than prolong discussion, Danny took hold of the Creeveys and directed them through the doors of the pub.

They set out in the general Direction of Madame Tussaud's and found one of those American hamburger bars which attract young Muggles and produce learned papers such as: _Are Muggles Using Unknown forms of Electricity to Force-Feed Poison to Their Young?_

'I see what your mum meant by Hagrid-size!' said Danny, looking round at people's meals.

'Are you going to ask for a Danny-size?' giggled Colin.

'Of course not. I'm going to ask for a Children's Meal.'

'A small package!' giggled Dennis: whenever Danny's shortness came up, Dennis would quote the Muggle saying _The Best Things Come in the Smallest Packages_ and the lads always found new double-, or triple-meanings to generate fresh explosions of joy.

They bought their Muggle hamburgers and drinks and sat upstairs, looking at the Muggles in the street below them.

'You two look spiffing in Muggle clothes!' said Danny,

'You don't look so bad yourself!' said Colin.

'And we can see a sweet little bump!' said Dennis.

'I saw you looking at mine.' laughed Colin.

'Only 'cos Danny was in the loo.' Dennis laughed too, then: 'Have you seen Lee Jordan's bump, Danny?'

'You can't miss it can, you? I tried to sneak a look at him in the showers once but Kenneth Towler sent me packing;'

'He's a misery, isn't he Colin?'

Colin nodded: 'What do you expect from someone who's been out with two Slytherin girls?'

'Be fair lads!' said Danny, 'We're supposed to stick to our own landings. The prefects are very strict.'

'They're not strict when they want your right hand, Danny!' said Colin, and the three lads laughed again.

'That reminds me, I've got something to tell you,' said Danny, leaning forward conspiratorially.

'What?' Colin and Dennis leaned forward too.

'I've got a Muggle friend!'

There were simultaneous _coo_s, then Colin said: 'We're allowed Muggle relatives, like Mum and Dad, but we're not allowed Muggle friends, are we Dennis? '

'No. Dad said we were blatherers and a security risk. We're not blatherers, are we Colin.'

'No, but you gave a Muggle beggar some Knuts.'

'And you told that Muggle lady that we weren't allowed to do spells outside Hogwarts.'

'And we shouldn't have talked about Honeydukes in the Muggle corner shop.'

'That was a good shop, they have collectible cards like we do, but for things like Muggle footballers and Muggle magical creatures.'

'Yeah, Danny, we saw some cards called Poke-a-Man.'

'Yeah, we should have bought some for you. We'll do that next time, won't we Colin?'

'Yeah, now we understand Muggle money. Danny, we bought our own clothes. They cost ever so much. We tried to do _haggling_, but it must only work for witches.'

'We could have got them cheaper. Mundungus Fletcher had some really good ones he was selling from a stall in Diagon Alley, but Mum says he steals them from Muggles.'

'And he's did time in Azkaban for it.'

'But it doesn't stop him. It must be awful in Azkaban.'

'Yeah, but the Dementors aren't as bad as everyone says. Do you remember when they came to Quidditch, Danny, and Harry fell off his broomstick?'

'Sssh!' hissed Danny. Colin had sat up and was shouting in his excitement. Muggles were staring at him.

'Sorry!' said Colin, not looking at all put out, 'Anyway me and you were hardly affected. Now tell us about your Muggle friend, Danny.'

'Well, he's two years older than me—'

'—Same age as Harry! said Colin.

'—He's called Piers. He's very tall, very skinny and he's got almost white blond hair. And yesterday he gave me a very, very special present.'

'What?'

'What?' Their heads bent close again.

'He gave me _a mouthful of cum_!'

'Wow!' from Colin.

'Ugh!' from Dennis, 'How could you? It's all sticky and slippy like putting salt on a slug. It must have been _horrible_!'

'Well,' said Danny, 'It was sort of horrible because I was fighting not to be sick when his tip tickled my throat. Then he squirted all this stuff and it was like Muggle bleach and I was coughing and spluttering and it went up my nose. But it was really good!'

'I don't understand, Danny,' said Dennis, 'How can it be good?'

'It was sexy! And it was nice doing it with Piers: he'd had a really bad day—really bad life—and I wanted to do something nice for him and I felt really proud that he _wanted_ me and when he was doing it, I felt we were so _together_—he was part of me and I was part of him.'

'That's what I feel when Colin bums me, though it's a bit unfair as he bums me every night and I really want to bum him, but he's saving it for Harry.'

'_And_ you haven't got any _hair_ yet, Dennis.' said Colin.

'That didn't stop Mandy Brocklehurst from letting me stick it in that slit thing they have last May.'

'And see what happened then!'

'What _did_ happen?' asked Danny, though it was like feeling forced to look at a bad accident.

'She started screaming and I ran away. I was trembling and Colin had to hold me. But I'm gonna try it again sometime.'

There were _ugh_s from the other two, then Danny said 'That wasn't all: later on I _bummed_ him!'

'Danny!' said Colin.

'Coo!' said Dennis.

'You said you were going to keep that for Harry—and your mouth, come to think of it!' said Colin.

'I know, I know, but I really wanted it and so did he.'

'What was it like?' asked Dennis.

'Brilliant!'

'Have _you_ got hair?' asked Colin.

'A little; and I can come a little too.'

'Wow!' said Dennis admiringly.

Danny gave his cheeky grin. 'And there's _more_!

'More!' The Creeveys stared at Danny in rapture.

'Afterwards _he_ bummed _me_!'

'Oh Danny! I've been looking forward to the day when we would bend over a bed and give Harry two virgin bumholes!'

'Looks like it's all up to you now, Col!'

Dennis was agog: 'What was it like, Danny? Did he have a big one? Did it hurt? Did you enjoy it? Do you want to bum _me_? Did he squeal? Did he kiss your neck and call you his own little Dannikins?'

Colin hissed: 'Quiet, Dennis! It's secret! I don't mind Danny knowing, but the Muggles are listening. Anyway, you _are_ my own little Dennikins, isn't he Danny.' He pressed his leg against Dennis''

'_Our_ little Dennikins!' said Danny, pressing his leg too.

'It's a really good laugh, sex, isn't it? _Do_ tell us all about being bummed, Danny!' said Dennis.

'Not much to tell. It didn't hurt much—he's only got a littl'un—and it felt nice —not sexy, but cosy—sort of—sort of _brotherly_.'

'You can be _our_ brother, Danny!' said Colin.

'Yeah! That'd be great, said Dennis, 'A middle one between me and Colin.'

Danny was very pleased and wriggled about like a sparrow—or a Creevey. 'Yes! OK! I've got two brothers! Not three: your Geoff's a pest—and your sisters—I'm not being brother to them.'

'Just us three as a special team!' said Dennis.

'Not that I've got anything against Geoff and your sisters, but they follow me everywhere and stare at me all the time.'

'I know,' said Colin, 'Hero-worship's silly, isn't it?'

The three boys nodded sagely.

'Anyway! What about your Piers? Did he go at you hard all the way, or did he start gently?' asked Dennis.

'He wanted it badly and was going like a woodpecker right away. And he really, really enjoyed squirting it in me. Then you let me down, Dennis.'

'_I_ let you down? Never!'

'You never told me _it leaks out_!'

'I thought you knew. I thought it was obvious.'

'Only if you think about it. But it's really great! I'm gonna have such a lot of fun this year! I'm gonna work hard and, when I'm not working, I'm gonna get to know every penis in Hogwarts!'

'That's quite a challenge, Danny!' said Dennis.

Colin looked wistful: 'I'm gonna try and get to know just one. You _will_ help me, won't you Danny? I do wish I could be really close to Harry.'

'Of course I'll help you!' said Danny, reaching across Dennis and putting his hand on Colin's.'

'And me!' squeaked Dennis laying his hand softly on the other two.

'Shall we orf to the Whish-courts, then?' asked Colin and the punters in the restaurant, had they been interested, could have watched three sweet young wizards, with three little-boy erections walking downstairs.

— CHAPTER TEN —_**Whish**_

The Muggle game of squash became popular in the 1930s and immediately attracted attention from wizardkind as first-class training for mental and physical reflexes. Some of the basement of Madame Tussaud's was converted into a set of squash courts and opened to the wizarding public. The problem was that, with two players in a small court, collisions were frequent and lets, and arguments about lets—wizards love arguing—disrupted the games.

The wizarding solution was a complicated spell that allowed players and their rackets to remain corporeal but still be able to pass through each other. The sport, renamed Wizard-Squash, or Whish, became immensely popular until it became apparent that the spell was slightly unreliable resulting in oddly-conjoined people being taken to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

The breaking-point came when the Dame-Hag of Pendle, the young heiress from the richest and most respectable family in the North, came to London for a few weeks' fashionable socialising and husband-seeking. She was an active, sporty girl and she joined the Whish league. Like everyone else, she suffered a few minor conjunctions—known as clunks. Unfortunately, one of those clunks left her undoubtedly pregnant by Sir Roger de Poussée. A gang of relatives led by a ferocious uncle turned up at the lodgings of Sir Roger, whose protestations of innocence, emphasis on the girl's extant virginity and declaration of poverty were met by her uncle's pointing out that Sir Roger knew the risks beforehand, the girl was undoubtedly in foal and Sir Roger would be given an allowance of a few Galleons per month.

Having delivered these arguments, the uncle laid a marriage contract on the table. He then produced an elegant quill pen and a goblin dagger of exquisite workmanship and mildly informed Sir Roger that either his signature or his balls would be on the contract within thirty seconds. This saying spread throughout the wizarding world and even reached Muggle ears, since which time it has been in constant use by Muggle fictioneers.

So poor Sir Roger was forced to marry just about the only eligible woman he'd never poked.

After that, it seemed that Whish was a dead doxy but spellmasters are game for a challenge and produced a solution that was elegant in its simplicity: if two players couldn't fit onto one court, they could have a court each. A player served in one court and the spell moved the ball in the other court identically to the first ball. When the second player hit this ball, the spell took control of the first court's ball. At all times each player knew what the other was doing because of a see-through ghost which mimicked his opponent's movements. The ghosts could of course be walked through, so there were no lets. And the courts themselves judged the fouls and kept the score.

At first there were teething troubles—two players accidentally serving simultaneously caused the courts to collapse—but these were sorted out and a bonus game added: Solo Whish. By creating a generic ghost with its own skill and corporeality with respect to the ball, a player could simply turn up without a partner and play a game of difficulty one to ten.

The three boys walked to Tussaud's and made their way down to the Whish area. A young house-elf bowed and said: 'What pleases the young masters today?'

Danny bowed and gave the order: 'A court-pair, please; three players; one changing room; medium balls.' The Creeveys tittered slightly.

The elf looked closely at the lads and three neat piles rose through the counter. each pile had a racket and a ball. There were sports shoes, socks, a jockstrap, shorts and a cotton shirt. All this rested on a huge fluffy cotton towel.

The elf handed over two wristbands: 'Courts 103, Changing Room 389; enjoy your game, young masters.'

Danny paid the elf, bowed and put on the wristbands. They went to find their changing room. It should be noted that the Whish centre is not as large as the numbers suggest: only Prime Numbers are used in the enumerations. Prime Numbers are of great importance in the magic world and definitely include the number _one_.

In the slightly cramped changing room they had a quick kiss and cuddle and stripped quickly, eager to get onto the courts; Danny, in boxer shorts only, was standing with his back to the other two and said: 'I didn't tell you: there's _more_!'

Colin and Dennis knew at once that there was extra excitement coming and stared avidly at Danny's rear-view.

Danny turned round saying: '_Ta-dah!_' while there was a simultaneous '_Danny! That's a huge cum!_' and '_Coo! That's ten times what Colin does!_'

There was indeed a huge cum-stain. Some of it was still wet and some crusted.

'Have a sniff!' said Danny, 'Do you think it's sexy?'

They had a sniff.

Colin said: 'Not really.'

Dennis: 'Coo! That's just like Colin's!'

As he took off his pants, Danny said: 'That's not my cum. This morning two boys wanked onto my willy. Any guesses who?'

'Seamus!' said Colin.

'Correct!' said Danny.

'Harry!' said Dennis.

'If it were Harry, would you think it sexy, Colin?'

'Was it Harry?' asked Colin, picking up the boxers and sniffing them more deeply than before.

'No: it was Oliver Wood.'

'Oh,' said Colin lowering the shorts.

'Who? Our famous Quidditch captain?' said Dennis grabbing the shorts and having another sniff.

'Yes, the boy who taught Harry how to play Quidditch.'

'Yeah,' said Colin and grabbed back the shorts to sniff them again.

'Come on lads! Let's hit the courts!' said Danny.

They dressed quickly. As they were going out, Danny said: 'Wait a minute, lads!' He turned back, picked up his boxer shorts and dabbed them behind each ear.

'For luck!' he said.

The Creeveys laughed uproariously and Dennis said: 'Danny! You are brilliant!' Then he grabbed the shorts and dabbed himself. Colin did the same.

Danny checked that the door had locked behind them and they scampered to Courts 103, though Dennis needed assistance as he was almost paralytic with laughter.

The quality of the Whish was not of the highest. Danny was much better than Colin who was a bit better than Dennis. However, the designers of the Mark 2 Whish system had thought of everything: there were dials at the back of the courts to adjust the fault-lines so the lads could set a handicap level to give a good game.

They took it in turns to play with the odd man out standing on the viewing gallery calling out such things as _Good shot! Hard luck! Nearly!_ But they always had their wands to hand, just in case. These three were well-trained, conscientious wizards.

They had forty minutes of fun and came back to the changing room sweaty and happy. They stripped off and Dennis said: 'Ooh, lets see your hair, Harry! I forgot to look before!'

The brothers knelt down and looked at Danny's fuzz. They stroked it gently. Boys being boys, there were three immediate stiffies. They were, in truth, tiny stiffies but hard as the man-size version. Without even thinking about it, they stood in a circle wanking and looking at each other. Danny picked up his pants from the bench and gave them to Colin saying: 'Come on that for me, please.'

Danny was the first to Come and Dennis was thrilled: 'It's like sticky water!' he said. Then he smelled it and said: 'Wouldn't it be great if it was always like this?'

Danny said: 'Only if you're totally ungay. If you've got a bit of gay, Colins'll be better.'

On cue, Colin started whimpering and produced three little pearls for Danny's shorts. A fourth pearl glistened on the tip of his willy and Danny caught this on his finger and smelled it. He then licked it off his finger and all three boys burst into laughter at the shear joyousness of life.

They wrapped themselves in towels and left the changing room to go to the showers.

'Coo! We're all really sweaty. We need a nice shower to get clean!' said Colin.

'Yeah, I'm not putting my precious pants on a sweaty body!' said Danny, causing the three of them to laugh uproariously again.

'IT'S NO LAUGHING MATTER!' said a voice behind them.

They turned to see a thuggish-looking man striding towards them.

'Daniel Jorrocks!'

Daniel stared.

'Daniel Jorrocks!'

'Who are you, and what do you want from me?'

'I am Dawlish, a member of the Auror's office and I am here to take you to the Ministry.'

'Why?'

'You know why?'

'Has anything happened to Mum or Dad?'

'Only the worry you've caused.'

'So they're OK?'

'YES, BUT YOU ARE IN VERY SERIOUS TROUBLE!'

'But we were only having a wank, weren't we lads?'

'What?'

'Or did we spend too long in the Whish court?'

'What?'

'Mr Dawlish, either there's another Daniel Jorrocks or someone's playing a practical joke on you. We've done nothing wrong!'

'YOU'LL LEARN WHAT HAPPENS TO PRACICAL JOKERS!'

Then, more calmly: 'Please get dressed and accompany me to the Ministry. Your two accomplices had better come too.'

'OK, Mr Dawlish. We'll just have our shower first.'

'No showers. Get dressed now.'

'Only a quick shower. OK?'

'Not OK. Get dressed now or come in your towels.'

'Colin came on my pants'

Dawlish's wand arm twitched.

_Stupefy!_

'Cool! said Dennis.

'Danny! _You stunned an auror!_' said Colin.

'It's OK: Underage magic is allowed here.'

'I know. What I meant was that's the most brilliant thing I've ever seen, apart from Harry, of course.'

'I hope the rest of the Aurors are better than him, or Scumbag'll be in charge by Friday. Help me prop him up, please.'

Nobody else was in their corner of the Changing Room Block, But there were one or two placid-looking people wandering in and out of the showers, so it looked as though no alarm had been raised.

They shared a shower cubicle which was a _very_ tight fit. If he hadn't been so excited about other matters, Danny might have gone for some red-hot action, but all that happened was that, as they were leaving the stall, Danny said: 'Colin, I think you missed a bit at the back, and spent a few seconds rubbing Colin's bottom.

Then as they went to leave again, Dennis said: 'Have I missed a bit too, Danny?' So he had to have _his_ bottom rubbed.

Dawlish was still there when they returned and still there when they emerged from Changing Room 389.

'Pull him up please, lads!' They propped him in a standing position and Danny gave him the _R__ennervate!_ Dawlish blinked for a couple of seconds then said: 'Walk in front of me.'

They went to the front desk and Danny was just handing in the wristbands when three men came hurtling down the stairs.

'Ah, Dawlish!' said the leading man, there was an alarm because you took so long.

'They were naked, Proudfoot.' said Dawlish, 'I had to let them dress, but it's as well you're here. There are two accomplices and you can Floo them.'

The seven of them went up a couple of flights of stairs to a fireplace and, despite Dennis' protestations that they could Floo solo, each boy was accompanied by an Auror who clutched his wrist.

At the Ministry they had no time to admire the Atrium, but were whisked into a lift and in no time at all found themselves in front of a door saying:

**MINISTER OF MAGIC**

**CORNELIUS FUDGE**

'Coo!' said Colin.

Dawlish knocked on the door and a self-important voice answered: 'Come!'

'Play neutral about Harry and Dumbledore!' whispered Danny to his friends, 'Follow my lead.'

— CHAPTER ELEVEN —_**The Minister of Magic**_

Cornelius Fudge was short and portly—a portliness restricted, according to rumour, by discrete visits to a corsetiere. Mr Jorrocks held that his bluff and decisive manner was necessary for the concealment of an inner uncertainty and a knowledge that there were a hundred more suitable Ministers in the wizard world. Mr Jorrocks viewed the current Ministry with some contempt, maintaining that the worst department was the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes as they had failed to deal with the biggest magical catastrophe of all: their alumnus Cornelius Fudge.

However, it was necessary for the profits of Jorrocks and Company that Mr Jorrocks should work closely with Ministry officials. Conversely, Mr Jorrocks had saved the Ministry from several disasters. So, whatever their inner feelings, all parties showed politeness and Danny knew that he would be treated respectfully.

Fudge was seated behind a huge desk. He rose and smiled: 'Daniel ... and some friends I see. Come in! Please be seated. Dawlish, ask Tabitha for some tea and then join us.'

They sat down at a side-table and Fudge opened proceedings with: 'Well Daniel, you've caused us a lot of worry!'

'Not knowingly, Sir.'

'Your mother's quite upset.'

Danny was alarmed: 'Mr Dawlish said that Mum and Dad were OK!'

'Yes, of course they're OK. But why you had to put them through this I don't know.'

'Put them through what, Sir?'

'Now Daniel, your mother called our MCI section to tell them about your message—Ah, Dawlish: on the table please, and pour five cups.'

Mr Dawlish obeyed and Danny took a sip of so-called tea. It was sickly-sweet, with an aftertaste of cat's pee.

'Ah ... Muggle herbal tea. Nothing to beat it!' purred Fudge.

'Sir?' said Danny, 'I didn't leave Mum a message.'

'Now Daniel! Who else would?'

'I didn't leave Mum a message.'

'Nor did we!' said Colin, 'Mr Dawlish said we were accomplices, but you can't be accomplices when there hasn't been a crime.'

'And we like Mr and Mrs Jorrocks,' said Dennis, 'but we haven't sent her a message, not even a Greetings Owl.'

'Because we go on holiday together, so there's no need.'

'And we were only playing Whish.'

'We're not very good but it's a great game, isn't it, Danny.'

'Yes,' said Danny, 'though why it leads to you being arrested, I can't understand.'

The real Fudge showed through: dizzy and dithering: 'Not arrested ... You haven't been arrested ... Er ... er ...' he said.

Daniel felt rather sorry for him and said: 'Look, Sir, wouldn't it be best for you to explain simply what's happened?'

Fudge, relieved that someone else had made a decision, said: 'Alright. Now you are staying with Mrs Jorrocks at a Muggle hotel?'

'Yes.'

'And you left after breakfast?'

'Yes.'

'Well, Mrs Jorrocks went to work and came back to the hotel for lunch. She found a letter saying that you had been kidnapped.'

'Kidnapped!' Danny laughed.

The Creeveys joined in.

'He obviously hasn't been kidnapped! He's here!' said Colin.

'Perhaps it means when we were kidnapped from the Whish courts,' said Dennis.

'It can't be that. It was written before we were kidnapped!'

'Oh yes ... But perhaps they knew they were going to kidnap us and wrote the letter in advance.'

'That's it! You've got it, Dennis!'

Colin turned in triumph to Fudge: 'Case solved, Sir.'

Fudge looked flummoxed for a few seconds, then the import of the Creevey's deductions sank in: 'Good lord, boy! We didn't _kidnap_ you; you were brought in for your own protection.'

'Protection from whom?' asked Danny.

'From Mr Dawlish!' said Dennis.

'But he was the protector!'

'Then why did you stun him?' asked Colin.

'Colin, you know I couldn't stun an Auror!'

Danny turned to Mr Fudge and said: 'Sorry, Sir. We're all so thrilled to meet the real Minister that we're getting a little confused. I didn't write that note and I think we ought to have Mum here and discuss possibilities.'

'Yes, I was just going to suggest that myself! See to it Dawlish.'

The long-suffering Mr Dawlish left the room.

'Meanwhile, Daniel, I think your two friends ... whose names ...'

'Colin Creevey, Sir!'

'Dennis Creevey, Sir!'

'We're in Gryffindor with Danny!'

'I think you can go now.' said Fudge.

'Oh Sir!' said Colin, 'We don't need to Floo back until five o'clock.'

'And we _are_ involved, Sir.'

'We're sort of reserve accomplices.'

'And Mrs Jorrocks might want to interrogate us.

'And Danny might forget key items of evidence.'

'And there might _really_ be double-agents working in the Ministry ...'

'... Even if Mr Dawlish is straight.'

'We don't mean straight like—'

'—Alright ... Alright! You can stay. Can you talk quietly at the table, please, while I get on with some work.'

Fudge retired to his desk. His work today consisted of reading reports. By and large the useful ones either contained bad news, or were too complex for him to understand; so he concentrated on the useless ones which a more honest Ministry might have rubber-stamped _Pabulum_.

The boys talked quietly as Fudge had suggested. They did this using the brilliant Muggle invention: Morse Code. Messages were discretely passed under the table by tapping the rhythm of the letters on each other's penises which, under such stimuli, were in a state of permanent erection.

Colin maintained that there was a key phrase which gave the recipient an instant orgasm, but everyone else doubted this—though they willing enough to participate in trials.

Their conversation started with wild speculation about the kidnapping letter, but it was easy to see when it switched to sex: bodies started wriggling and titters started developing.

'At one stage Colin said out loud: 'That's not how you spell "foreskin"!'

Fudge could find no context for this statement so, as usual, ignored it.

Ten minutes after Dawlish's departure, the door swept open and Mrs Jorrocks walked in. She had time for a _Hello Daniel!_ before a confusion of Creeveys began explaining their theories.

She quietened them down—somewhat less efficiently than Mrs Creevey.

'Well, we found him, Mrs Jorrocks.' said Fudge.

'Well done!' said Mrs Jorrocks, with apparent sincerity.

'Let's see the note, Mum.'

She took out the note, tabled a sheet of computer paper and read out loud:

_We are holding your son Daniel._

_Do not go to the Police._

_Have one million pounds in used notes in a kitbag._

_Wait for further instructions._

'The Ministry thought that I wrote this, Mum.'

Mrs Jorrocks converted a guffaw into a cough.

'I knew it wasn't you and I knew it wasn't magic people, so I assumed it was Muggles.'

'Why shouldn't it be magic people, Mrs Jorrocks?' asked Fudge.

'They would have known it was the Ministry, not the Muggle police, that they had to fear; and also known that they would not have been able to convert that much money without triggering Fiscal Charms.'

'Of course!' said Fudge, 'Then why did you contact the Ministry, Mrs Jorrocks?'

'I wasn't worried about Daniel, but I thought he might use magic—under exceptional circumstances, of course. I was worried that, though he's good at spells, he is inexperienced at concealment from Muggles and I contacted you to ensure you had your Obliviators on full alert—which I assume they are?'

'Of course!' said Fudge. 'Dawlish, would you go and check their status?'

'And stand them down as obviously they are not needed now.' said Mrs Jorrocks glancing sharply at Danny, who was coughing noisily.

'Yes, Dawlish. At once.'

Fudge brightened up: 'So all's well that ends well! No more action needed ... Unless ... Unless ... It might be wizards _pretending_ to be Muggles!'

'Why on earth would they want to do that, Mr Fudge?'

'As a provocation of some sort ... Maybe to disrupt the MCI ... with all the lies that Dumbledore and—'

He turned to the boys: 'Gryffindor! You're in the same house as Harry Potter.'

'He's senior to us, Sir,' said Danny, 'and he's got his own clique, so we eat at the same table but that's all.'

'We watch him at Quidditch—Eek!' said Colin, whose final syllable sounded like a boy whose private parts have been strongly tweaked.

'—but they're all too snooty to bother with us, Sir.' said Danny.

'I wonder if—what do you see of Dumbledore?' asked Fudge.

'He's our headmaster, sir, so we've got to respect him, but when he announced that You-Know-Who was back, we wondered, well ...'

Mr Dawlish returned and gave a thumbs-up as Fudge was saying: 'An admirable attitude, Daniel.'

'And Mr Fudge, I can assure you that Jorrocks and Company and your MCI run very tight ships and it would take more than a tiny provocation, as you call it, like this to upset things. The wizard economy is healthy and will stay healthy.' said Mrs Jorrocks.

'Excellent!' Fudge pronounced, in his most incisive manner.

'So I think you can rule out Dumbledore and Potter.'

'And assume it to be Muggles. Then definitely: All's well that ends well!'

'Not quite.' said Danny, 'There's still the mystery of why they left a letter saying they had me when they hadn't.'

'Well, I thought of that,' said his mother, 'and the answer is obvious: one or two of the gang left the letter while the others kidnapped you. When the kidnap attempt failed they either couldn't retrieve the letter or, more likely, couldn't be bothered.'

'It's thin Mum, and even thinner when you consider: it isn't the case of a failed attempt: there was _no attempt at all_! I was an easy target: I walked or tubed everywhere instead of flooing. There wasn't a ghost of a kidnap attempt.'

Mrs Jorrocks looked pensive: 'It's sound logic, but what other explanation could there be?'

'Mum, have you forgotten: _someone left my room at half past seven this morning._'

'Piers Polkiss!' squeaked Dennis, making them all jump.

'Merlin's Beard, Woman!' said Mrs Jorrocks, striking her forehead. 'Your old mum's losing her marbles.'

She turned to the Minister: 'I'm afraid, Mr Fudge, that there may be complications after all.'

Turning to Danny she said: 'Have you got his phone number?'

Danny nodded.

'You'd better try it. And if he's missing, you'd better tell them to report it to the Muggle police. It's a Muggle crime so the sooner we let them get solving, the better.'

'Mum, they'll just think he's run away—God knows he's got enough reasons—and there are tens of thousands of teenage runaways every year.'

'We can't just abandon him, can we? You'd better tell them about the note.'

She turned back to Fudge: 'I'm afraid, Mr Fudge, that there may be even worse complications. We need to check first. Danny needs to make a phone call.'

Fudge spoke to Dawlish: 'Escort Daniel to the MCI to make use one of these you-knows and get the other two down the Floo.'

This time it was Danny who was foremost in Creevey-chivying: he was in a hurry. There was some delay as Colin and Dennis got Fudge's autograph (and one for Geoff), then the four of them were walking down the corridor with the Creeveys propounding the case for one or both of them Flooing home and then Flooing back, having obtained their mother's permission to stay late.

But two more officials came and escorted the brothers towards the Floos. Danny hugged Colin, saying: 'I'll keep in touch!' Then he hugged Dennis who gave his bottom a medium pinch and said: 'You _must_ see us before the bruise goes!'

Dawlish took Danny to a modern-looking area containing Muggle equipment. He heard an old hand telling a fresh-faced youth: 'No, the Muggle Futures Exchange does not need integration with the Hall of Prophecy.'

He made the phone call and got bad news. He explained about the letter and the assumed case of mistaken identity and advised Piers' mother to call the police.

It was a worried Danny who returned to Fudge's office.

'I've told Mr Fudge about the problem, Daniel' said Mrs Jorrocks.

'So, Daniel,' said Fudge, 'You can expect to be interrogated by the Muggle police. Is your story straight? Will anything compromise the Statute of Secrecy.

'Tell us the story, Daniel.' said his mother.

'Well, I went to look for John Smith yesterday. He was out so I had a picnic and went to the public loo. A policeman was arresting a boy I didn't know: Piers.'

'Was he cottaging?' asked Mrs Jorrocks.

'Mum! How do you know about cottaging?'

'You forget that we have to thoroughly know the Muggle world as it relates to magic. When you told me I'd never be a grandmother, I threw away _Teenage Treasure: How to get Your Son a Rich Wife_ and bought _Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Gay Sex and Were Afraid to ask Your Son_.'

Danny laughed: 'More like_ How to be an interfering Old Bat_!'

Fudge was shocked: 'Daniel! That's no way to talk to your mother!'

Mrs Jorrocks laughed now: 'Minister, Daniel was referring to Muggle mothers.'

'Oh.' said Fudge, 'Do Muggles have gays too?'

'Yes,' said Mrs Jorrocks, 'but they persecute them. Go on Daniel.'

'I intervened and blackmailed the policeman into letting us go. Then we had a day in the Muggle world, spent the night here and he left this morning.'

'That's where the Muggle police'll focus, Mr Fudge: he went to Tussaud's and Diagon Alley, so he'll have to work out alibis. Is the Befuddlement on CCTV OK?'

'What, that Devilision thing? What's the status Dawlish?'

'Fully operational, Minister'.

'Good!' said Mrs Jorrocks, 'Then all you have to do is come up with a few places where you were wandering round, Daniel. Problem solved, Mr Fudge!'

'That's what I like to hear! Well done, Daniel and thank you for your help, Mrs Jorrocks.' Fudge half rose.

'Problem _not_ solved, Mum. We've still got to find Piers.'

'That's up to the Muggle police, Daniel.'

'But the Ministry could help.'

Fudge sat down: 'The Ministry can not and will not intervene in an internal Muggle matter.'

'But it's not internal, Sir. Piers is my friend.'

'Hardly a friend, Daniel, since you only met him yesterday. Be that as it may, lots of wizards have Muggle friends and relations, but they don't expect the Ministry to compromise security as a favour. No, let the Muggles look after their own.'

'I'm afraid Mr Fudge is right, Daniel,' said Mrs Jorrocks. 'Jorrocks and Company deals with Muggles on a need-to basis, and we have the same approach as the Ministry. We've done the right thing and provided information to the Muggle police. Now all we have to do is ride the police interview and let them get on with the job.'

Danny would have protested , but there was a firmness in Mrs Jorrocks' tone. Danny knew that she would not be budged and, were he consulted, Mr Jorrocks would concur.

Danny didn't think British kidnappers went in for murder, but he couldn't help worrying. He resolved to do everything he could to find Piers. He thought he had a starting point ...

— CHAPTER TWELVE —_**Bobbies**_

In the late afternoon sun a sleek Muggle car was drawn up outside the official entrance to the Ministry. There were double yellow lines, but passing traffic wardens were mildly Confunded to believe that the car was slowly moving away.

Danny and his mother emerged unobtrusively amid the Muggle pedestrians and settled in the back seat of the car on their way to the Dorchester.

'Nervous?' asked Mrs Jorrocks.

'No fear!' said Danny, 'I've got my lines off perfectly. I just hope that the Muggle police do their job.'

'Probably not necessary, dear. When the kidnappers realise they've got the wrong boy, they'll just leave him and vanish.'

'Yeah. I'm sort of glad that the Ministry _aren't_ involved: we'd have had to tell them that Piers is from Little Whinging, and even the Ministry might have found a Harry Potter connection.'

'Poor Harry! We must fear the worst, I'm afraid, Daniel. Squeezed between Scumbag and Fudge, how could a fifteen-year-old boy survive—even with Dumbledore's protection?'

'I'm feeling a bit perkier about him, Mum. I think it probably _was_ friends that took him away. It wasn't the Ministry—you saw how twitchy Fudge was. And Scumbag's lot would surely have just killed him and Confunded his aunt. Besides, she didn't report any signs of a struggle—and Harry would have struggled—he's very brave.'

His aunt nodded: 'All well and good, but the aunt might have been confunded when you spoke to her, though you'd probably have noticed something. I wonder why Dumbledore made him grow up with Muggles. And I wonder why he makes him return every summer. Anyway, tell Harry when you see him that Stephen can find places for him that a million Scumbags couldn't penetrate.'

'I'll tell him, but who could Harry's mystery friends be?'

The company car, supposedly without using magic, but with improbable luck at the traffic lights, soon reached the Dorchester. Mrs Jorrocks emerged with a _Thank you Bates_ and Danny followed with a wink at the grizzled old chauffeur. The wink was, by mutual agreement, short for _Thank you Master Bates_.

They got their keys at Reception, who also gave Mrs Jorrocks a message form. They read it together:

_Please contact Mr Leal as soon as possible on 020 7230 1212_

'Game on!' said Danny, 'It was Whitehall 1212 in the old films.'

Mrs Jorrocks phoned Scotland Yard and made an appointment for seven o'clock. 'It's a Detective Constable Leal.' she told Danny, 'Sounds a nice young man.'

They decided on an early rather than late dinner and partook of exceedingly upmarket hamburgers in the Promenade. These cost about ten times the price that Danny and the Creeveys had paid for their lunchtime burgers.

They settled down in the huge sitting room, Mrs Jorrocks leafing through some papers and Danny reading—not _Victorian_ _People_ which had vanished with Piers, but _More Work for the Undertaker_, a delicious Muggle detective story, which seemed a suitable, if ominous, choice.

At five to seven the phone rang. Mrs Jorrocks answered it and said: 'Send him up, please.'

The man who appeared and introduced himself as _DC Leal_ was tall and pleasant-looking. He was in his late twenties and looked in good physical shape, if running a little to fat. Danny thought of Piers' fantasy: this man was definitely a hunk and had actually been trained in the controlled infliction of violence. He wondered if Piers would prefer him to Oliver Wood. He mentally compared images of Ollie and the DC spanking Piers' bottom. Then he thought of them spanking his own bottom. _No thanks!_ he said to himself, but the image of Piers' bottom was strong. Danny crossed his legs. He had the horn.

While Danny had been daydreaming, Mrs Jorrocks had asked the policeman if he would like some tea or coffee. As either was acceptable, Mrs Jorrocks had ordered both.

Now the DC opened proceedings by politely suggesting: 'Before I make notes, why don't you take me through it, Daniel?'

Daniel had got as far as the Science Museum when there was a sharp rat-a-tat. 'That'll be Room Service.' said Mrs Jorrocks and Danny went to open the door.

A ferrety-looking man burst in.

'Daniel Jorrocks?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'And Mrs Jorrocks, I presume?'

'Yes. You're not Room Service, I take it?'

'I am Detective Chief Inspector Welch of Thames Valley Police.' He noticed DC Leal. 'And you are?'

'Not.' said DC Leal.

'Not what?'

'Not Detective Chief Inspector Welch of Thames Valley Police.'

'Now don't get clever with me, son!'

Danny wondered where the DCI got his scripts.

'Who are you and what is your connection with the crime?'

'I am Detective Constable Leal of the Metropolitan Police and I'm here to do a fast-response interview.'

'You've no business to be here. I sent a twenty-fifty to your DAC.'

'Not relevant. We sent a one forty A to your HQ.'

'Should have sent it to Whinging Station. HQ'll only send it to us for comment. And, for your information, twenty-fifty _is_ relevant.'

'Only if there is a direct link between domicile or place of employment and the crime on the person, which is not the case here.' Danny could see that DC Leal was made of stern material and might not be averse to dishing out a little spanking.

'Which _is_ the case, clever-dick:' snapped DCI Welch, 'we also sent an eighty-three promoting last Thursday's MP O O Three about the old lady who went walkabout to a suspected abduction. And we sent a ten-fifteen linking the two cases.'

'Linking would only be accepted by joint agreement. We can do that at the Polkiss Case Conference: we sent a B six-twenty suggesting twice-a-day teleconferences.'

While the discussion on correct procedures continued, Room Service arrived and Mrs Jorrocks asked for _Same again!_ Then the telephone rang and Mrs Jorrocks asked for them to _Send her up!_

Danny meanwhile, evaluated the third policeman. He was a placid-looking man in his forties. The eyes always told you! As Mr Placid followed the discussion he flicked his eyes from colleague to colleague, but always finding time for a quick look at Danny. Everyone appreciates being appreciated and Danny smiled warmly at him. The policeman looked away smartly, but couldn't stop himself glancing back now and then. Danny rather liked him. He guessed that he was a loving and loved husband and father, who enjoyed tending his roses and spent one night out a week with the lads, bent over a snooker table. He was probably unambitious professionally and flowed gently along wherever modern times went, perhaps occasionally feeling a twinge of regret that boy scouts no longer wore shorts.

There was another knock on the door and a jolly-looking young woman bounced in.

'Tracy Brooke, Victim Support.' she announced then, turning to Danny, 'Are you the unlucky young man? Let's sit down and talk about it. It's usually best to have a cosy one-to-one so would everyone else please clear the room?'

There was a tumult of voices. Mrs Jorrocks, glancing longingly at the bag that held her wand, firmly steered Tracy to the door, saying: 'Bad time, dear. Would you leave your card and we'll call you.'

Tracy obliged but left still orating: '...It's very important for victims of trauma to receive immediate reassurance ... Children and Young Persons Act of nineteen thirty-three ... and the Children Act of nineteen eighty-nine requires...'

There was silence. Mrs Jorrocks said: 'Let's sit down, have a nice cuppa and I suggest that Mr Welch, as Senior Officer in Attendance, conducts the interview. Mr Leal can follow up with any Supplementaries and subsequent Collation be agreed at Case Conference—I'm sure there are Protocols for that.'

Without giving them time for debate, she then uttered the magic words: 'Now who wants tea and who wants coffee?'

The unnamed detective was introduced as DS Haldenby. While they were queuing for coffee, Danny said to him: 'Is that big book because you do shorthand?'

'Yes, though I'm better at writing it than reading it!'

They laughed and Danny guessed that he had attained his Sergeancy primarily because his shorthand made him useful to go-getting, but lazy colleagues.

They settled down with their drinks and DCI Welch took charge. He was interviewing Danny, but established his mother's details too. When he learned that they lived in Russia, their British passports had to be found and details taken.

DCI Welch then turned to Danny and elicited details of his friendship with Piers Polkiss.

'And has Piers ever shown any tendencies towards self-harming?'

'Good lord, no! But this is a kidnapping not a suicide.'

'We've got to look at all possibilities, son.'

'But there's the letter.'

Ah. The letter. We'd better take that. Haldenby!'

As Mrs Jorrocks indicated the letter on the table, DCI Welch read it out loud and DS Haldenby picked it up with Tweezers and slid it into a plastic bag. 'I'm afraid your fingerprints staff won't have much joy, Mr Welch.' said Mrs Jorrocks. Danny and I have handled it time and again.'

Ignoring her, DCI Welch turned back to Danny: 'Has Piers got access to a computer?'

'I don't know.' said Danny, 'I've never been to his house.'

'So would you take me through yesterday?'

'Well, I went over in the morning for a football kickabout.'

'Some way to go for a game of football.'

'Maybe, but I learned it from other lads: lots come and play in Hyde Park; that's where I met the Whinging contingent. I arranged to see them yesterday, but there was just me and Piers.'

'What time did you get to Little Whinging?'

'Ten or eleven—I didn't take my watch.'

'And you played football.'

'It was just a kickabout, really. We had a snack, a bit more footie then discussed whether any more would show up. Piers said he wouldn't bet on it and—'

'—Did Piers like to bet?'

'I don't know.'

'Did you never see him with any betting slips?'

'No.'

'Any indication that he was in debt?'

'No.'

'Go on then: no-one else turned up?'

There was an undercurrent of tension in the air and Danny suddenly identified it and made gestures to his mother who said 'Gentlemen, you may smoke.'

Three cigarettes were lit in a trice and DCI Welch resumed: 'So there was just you in the park, and no-one else turned up?'

'Yeah. We went to Maidenhead and looked around a bit. Then we took the train to Paddington and looked around Oxford Street.'

'Why?'

'Why?—Well, we're kids. We're on holiday. That's what we do.'

'You don't think he took you there for the shoplifting?'

'No I don't. We just wandered round the shops and went back to the Dorchester. We hung around watching telly then took a tube to South Ken, had a look round the Science Museum, and came back here. Mum had got back from seeing relatives.'

'What time was this, Mrs Jorrocks?'

'Sixish, I suppose.'

'And did you think Piers was disturbed at all?'

'Well, It was the first time I'd met him. I thought he was a perfectly normal boy—a suitable friend for my son. We went out to dinner and he seemed quite happy.'

'You went to dinner where?'

Mrs Jorrocks told him.

'And after dinner?'

'I went home and the boys went towards Piccadilly.'

DCI Welch was aghast: 'You let two young boys loose in the West End at night!'

'Well they're hardly at risk of harm in those crowds, are they?'

Danny backed his mother: 'Yeah we weren't at all bothered.'

'Tell me where you went, please.'

'Well we went down Piccadilly and hung about the Circus for a bit.'

'Did Piers talk to any men? Or—er—other boys?'

'What, you mean rent boys? Of course not.'

'Then we went up Shaftesbury Av.'

'He didn't go into the all-night chemist? Come to think of it, did he at any time buy any small items?'

'No.'

'So you went along Shaftesbury Avenue?'

'Yeah. We turned off for a bit to look at Soho.'

'And did Piers seem to know the place? Did any of those women talk to him?'

'No.'

'And then what?'

'Went to a Cinema and saw _Batman Forever_.'

'Any good?' put in DC Leal.

'Not bad. OK to while away a couple of hours.' said Danny.

Mrs Jorrocks said: 'And then they came back—'

'—on the number fourteen bus—' put in Danny.

'—and told me all about it.'

'Then we went to bed.' said Danny. 'Piers had phoned his mum and she said it was OK for him to stay. We got up at seven, had some tea and Piers left to go home at seven thirty—he was meant to be going off somewhere with his family.'

'And this letter?'

'Was left here sometime in the morning or early afternoon.' said Mrs Jorrocks, I thought it was just a prank, and went out to the park. I found Daniel playing football and, when he said it was nothing to do with him, I got him to phone the Polkiss home from a callbox. It sounded as though someone had abducted Piers by mistake, so Daniel suggested they phoned the police. Then we came back here, and the rest you know.'

'An interesting case!' said DCI Welch, 'What do you think, Constable?'

'Well, Sir,' said DC Leal. It's always possible that, unknown to Daniel, Piers Polkiss has become a rent boy, faked his own kidnap and taken to shoplifting to fund his addictions to gambling, drugs and prostitutes.

'On the other hand, we may take the case at its face value: abduction with extortion and mistaken identity. What's baffling is how the kidnappers mistook a six foot blond for a four foot dark-haired boy.

'The only link—' He broke off as the telephone rang.

Mrs Jorrocks answered and called: 'It's for you, Mr Welch.'

DCI picked up the phone with a snappy _Welch!_ and listened for a minute. He put the phone down and announced:

'Criminal Psychological Profiler' he announced, 'Thirty-Eight percent probability: Single, white male; in his forties; lives with his mother; likely to have a record of sex-offending against boys in the eleven to nineteen age-group; may have had disfunctional relationships with women; likely to be well-organised as the abduction succeeded; probably drives a car to carry the victim away.'

'Or a gang trying to earn a million pounds.' said DC Leal.

'Don't write profiling off.' said DCI Welch, 'It's sometimes really comes up trumps.'

'On the basis that a stopped clock is right twice a day.' said DC Leal, irrelevantly, 'Anyway Daniel, as I was saying, the likely cause of the identity confusion is that _he_ left _your_ bedroom this morning.'

'Or we could have been playing football together one day and one criminal could have said to another "That's him!" '

DC Leal nodded.

'Or they could simply have believed there was only one teenager, staying here.'

DC Leal nodded again, then said: 'Whichever way, it looks like there must have been help from somebody on the hotel staff. Have you noticed anyone acting suspiciously.'

'No.' said Daniel. He _had_, of course, but he wasn't going to allow the Muggle police to foul it up.

'Or anyone taking a special interest when you've been playing football?'

'No'

There was silence. Then DCI Welch said: 'Let's call it a day for now and get the investigation in motion. Leal, do you want to come out to TVP HQ and sort out the Liaison?'

'Probably best done at the Yard.'

'Or somewhere neutral.'

'I agree!' said DC Leal, and all five people in the room knew that a pub visit was in the air.

With a sense of urgency, the three policemen bowed themselves out of the room, having passed over cards and warnings to _take care_ and _let us know if anything else occurs to you_.

Danny and Mrs Jorrocks, looked at each other and burst out laughing. Mrs Jorrocks made herself a gin-and-tonic and poured out a cherry juice for Danny. She raised her glass and said: 'Here's to the most competent, organised and effectual person we've met today: Cornelius Fudge!'

— CHAPTER THIRTEEN —_**Blackmail and Bribery**_

Danny's alarm woke him at five to seven the next morning. He had a plan. He was fairly sure that Joe the waiter had tipped off the kidnappers that Danny would be leaving some time after seven o'clock on the previous morning.

And because the kidnappers had got the wrong boy, it followed that they had never seen Danny, which implied that they weren't very close to Joe.

Danny hoped to confirm this by observing Joe's reaction. He had ordered an early call to minimise the chance of Joe consorting with the kidnappers. Joe would be bemused to get an order from Danny's room, but, if he had any sense, would ascribe it to one of the Jorrocks family staying in the hotel to comfort the worried mother—a potential belief that Danny had bolstered by ordering coffee instead of tea.

It all depended on Joe's expression: if he looked as though he expected to see Danny, then the kidnappers would probably know by now of their mistake. They would kill Piers or release him and Danny couldn't do anything about it. His best hope would be to phone the Muggle police and tip them off about Joe.

On the other hand, if Joe looked surprised ...

He jumped out of bed, took off his undies and went to the bathroom. Having brushed his teeth he prepared himself and the room and sat in a dressing gown waiting for the knock.

He had an erection. He didn't know whether that was good or bad. He thought probably the former and kept himself stiff with lively thoughts of high jinks with Harry and Colin. A wank was tempting, but out of the question.

At last the knock came. He couldn't do a _Come in!_ because he would miss the reaction so he crossed the room and opened the door.

He couldn't have hoped for better! Joe stood there saying 'er ... er ...'

'On the table please Joe.'

Joe had recovered himself and managed: 'Good morning, Sir.'

He closed the door behind him and deposited the tray.

Before he could come out with the usual _Will there be anything else, Sir?_ Danny burst forth: 'Joe it's ever so exciting! One of my friends has been kidnapped! Sit down and let me tell you about it.'

He motioned Joe into a chair on one side of the low table and sat down on the sofa facing him.

'We had the _police_ here last night and they're absolutely _baffled_. And they left the ransom note here instead of his home. And I'm so excited I wanted a friend to comfort me.'

He had kept the dressing gown loose and, as he lolled about on the sofa, he saw the moment when Joe caught a glimpse of his stiffie.

'Can you do that, Joe? I need a friend so bad!'

'Of course, Sir.' Joe looked astonished for the second time that morning.

'I woke up this morning and you speak good English, do you know what an _arsehole_ is?'

As Joe nodded, Danny, got up. His dressing gown was wide open and his willy was leading the way as he went to the door and locked it. As he walked, he said: 'Well Joe! My arsehole was really _throbbing_. It's never done that before, and I thought of you. Every morning I wanted you to get into bed with me but my arsehole has _never_ felt like this! I stuck in some Savlon to soothe the itching.'

By this time, he was back from the door and leaning over Joe. He reached both hands and rubbed Joe's privates. A strong erection.

He gasped: '_Joe, I want it now!_' and clutched Joe's sleeve to pull him up.

Joe got up and turned to see Danny's bum wiggling its way to the bathroom. He came back with the Savlon and gave it to Joe. He knelt down, unbuttoned Joe's trousers, unzipped them and pulled them down to reveal dirty, bulging undies. He pulled down the undies and a penis with an angry purple end boinged its way to an attractive, firm erectile position. It was bigger than Piers', of course, but not terrifying.

He jumped up, turned, and lay across the side of the bed, his stiff willy pressed to his tummy by the towel that he laid down. He heard Joe unscrewing the Savlon, then felt the tip off his willy pressing against the hole. Then the willy pushed its way in with surprising ease and _wiggled_. Off course! It wasn't Joe's willy; it was a finger!

As Joe's finger wiggled about, Danny thought that he'd never felt such pleasure in his life. Then the finger withdrew and Danny felt a warm—no hot—mass passing through his bumcheeks and pressing against his bumhole. Then the hole was stretching. It hurt a little, But Joe rested for a while to let Danny get used to it. Then pressed more, and rested.

Danny remembered a shit he had once had after a week's constipation during a visit to Rome. There had been something sexy about the way the shit had really stretched his hole and Danny had thought it a one-off. But now, as he felt Joe's penis distending him more and more, he realised, with elation, that bumming was a joy for _both_ partners.

Sex was so good, and the pain he felt as Joe pushed a bit more was pleasant in itself. He thought of Piers' fantasy and hoped he would see Piers again to tell him that he understood him better.

Joe gave a sudden thrust. Danny heard a little moan as Joe withdrew a little, then thrust hard again. He could feel Joe's body pressing against his cheeks, then losing contact as he withdrew. Joe must be fully in now! Yes! He had begun a strong rhythmic thrusting. His loins were making slapping noises against Danny's cheeks, and he thought of Piers again.

Danny's felt a deep pleasure through his whole body. It was like coming in to a warm fire after a day in the snow. Joe's hands were digging into his shoulders as he thrust faster and even deeper. Danny felt an orgasm approaching. He'd forgotten that his willy was being rubbed against the towel. He now forgot everything except the fantastic excitement of coming his best come ever _while being screwed by a real man_!

Joe was enjoying a good orgasm too: Danny heard the grunts coming involuntarily from Joe's mouth and heard the loud slapping sounds from the slightly sweaty bodies. And then after reaching a climax of power, the strokes subsided and Joe was slumped, breathless on top of Danny.

Danny didn't relish what was to come and he hoped that Joe would make it easy for him. He pushed upwards and Joe withdrew. There was a farting sound. Dennis would have loved that. He moved his body and shifted Joe's. Danny was lying sideways across the bed propped on his left elbow. Joe was sitting on the edge of the bed with his body turned towards Danny. Danny took hold of Joe's left hand and said: 'Joe, I really enjoyed that. And you obviously did as well. Do you want us to go on doing this?'

'Oh Sir! Anytime you want!'

'Then I need to ask you another favour.'

'Anything, sir.'

Danny spoke slowly. Joe's English was excellent but, in shock, he might not take in every word: 'Joe, I need you to tell me the truth—the complete truth, holding nothing back—about the plot to kidnap me.'

Joe started: 'Whaaaa?' His hand made to jerk out of Danny's, but Danny squeezed tight.

'Now Joe, I don't blame you. They offered you a lot of money.'

'No! No! Nothing to do with me!'

'And don't get panicky, Joe. Nobody can prove a thing. You only talked to someone.'

'No! I never talked—'

'Joe, you must understand: The boy they took instead of me is a friend, and I'll do _anything_ to get him back. And that _anything_ includes sending you to prison for ten or fifteen years.'

Joe blanched, but he said nothing.

'If I pick up that phone and say you raped me, I have an arsehole full of your semen to prove the case. But I won't do that if you tell me the whole story.'

Joe seemed absolutely collapsed.

'Could you bear fifteen years of prison being cooped up with hard men who think you're the lowest of the low? Could you bear being stabbed sometimes, losing an eye, being covered in boiling water? And yet, all you have to do is tell me the truth and you're a free man.'

Joe was snivelling a bit: 'I thought it wouldn't matter. Your father is rich. He wouldn't be bothered about losing a million. I didn't want any harm for you.'

'I know, I know!' said Danny, encouragingly, 'Just tell me what happened.'

'You came here a month ago and I did your first tea and one of your lunches. I was captivated and told the boss that you and Madame had asked for me as much as possible. And every day I brought your tea and you lit up my day brighter than the sun.

'Then, two weeks ago, two new laundrymen came. They must have found out you were here and targeted you. They found out that I was your waiter and one day, I was walking out the staff entrance and they came up to me. "Do you want to make a hundred thousand pounds?" Rass said to me—they are called Rass and Svetty.

'Of course I said yes!'

'Then they told me if they could kidnap you and hide you, Sir Stephen would pay a million to get you back. They said whatever happened you would not be hurt so I said yes again. I never meant you harm, Sir, believe me.'

'I believe you.' said Danny, 'Go on.'

Joe continued: 'Well, you know it's difficult to kidnap anyone in this country in the middle of a big city. It's not like the films: there's always people about in the streets and I have a pass key to the rooms but if you turn the lock there's only security can get in and if we try to break in you would hear and pick up the phone and Security would be there in a minute.

'But Rass and Svetty had found a weak point: used laundry drops down chutes but fresh laundry is brought up in baskets.'

'Laundry baskets!' said Danny, 'Of course!'

'We were on the point of giving up,' said Joe, 'When you ordered an early tea for Tuesday morning. I told Rass and Svetty and when I took you your tea you said you were going out shortly. I left here and went down the corridor to the service lift. They were there with a basket, fiddling about with a pile of fresh sheets. I told them you'd be coming out soon and went down to the kitchens.

'Then your friend must have come out. Was he in your sitting room? And they must have seen him come out and pushed him in the basket, taken it down in the lift and wheeled it though the service entrance. Pushing the baskets is a one-man job, but some of the older wagons don't have a hoist and it takes two men to lift them.

'Laundry comes and goes at all hours and the security man on the back door knows the laundrymen so he wouldn't look twice.'

'They must have a third man driving a laundry wagon.' said Danny.

'No. They've their own van. It is always parked in the street. They have a residents' permit that looks the real thing. I work the same shift—six to two—as them and I have seen them sometimes getting in and driving off.'

'Easy.' said Danny, 'One man would leave with a fag in his mouth, so the security man would think he was going out first to light up. The second would follow a little later pushing the basket and finding his mate and the van very close. And you dropped the letter off later?'

'Yes, Sir.' He reached inside his jacket. 'I'm to drop this off later this morning. I have to shake it out the envelope to leave no fingerprints.'

Danny shook the note onto the bed. He read: _He is safe. Take a train to ..._

There followed instructions for a complicated journey to an East End telephone box the following afternoon, there to await a call giving further instructions.

'Leave this with me, Joe.' Danny scooped the note back into the envelope.

'Now, listen! You're in the clear. Don't let our two friends know that they've got the wrong boy. If they find out that this room had coffee today, tell them it was some relative. Pretend to drop off the note later on and tell them you've done it if they ask. The police may interview you but, of course, you know nothing.

'I need you to do just one more thing: tell me roughly where I can find the van and how to identify it.'

'It's a white Bedford. It'll be the only one with a local residents' permit. Its registration begins C and something like 632.'

'Ok Joe. You'd better get back to work. I've got things to do but with a bit of luck you'll be able to top up my bum on Friday. And no funny business!' He patted his bottom. 'I'm going to shit this out into a bottle and I want you to remember that I can send you to prison at any time.'

Joe left whispering apologies, thanks and vows of eternal loyalty. Danny went into the bathroom. His ablutions included a poo: Joe's cum was a deterrent, not a real weapon. As he came out the bathroom, he noted that the pictures on the wall needed straightening. He must have done that during his orgasm and promised himself that he work hard towards better control of his magical emotional impulses .

He went to his cupboard and took out his set of picklocks. These existed thanks to the Weasley twins who maintained that, while they were underage and banned from doing magic in the Muggle world, acquisition of Muggle criminal skills would be a useful accomplishment. Danny and his friends had spent many happy hours during cold winter evenings improving their lock-picking skills.

He left a note in the sitting room: _Gone for walk. Will try to avoid abduction_. He then dashed out the room and two minutes later was walking around the local streets.

The van was easy to find and he intended to pick the lock of the passenger-side door and sit in the van as though waiting for his dad. There was nothing on the dashboard, but there might be clues inside.

He was thwarted as, even at this hour, there was always someone walking past and, never having picked a vehicle lock before, he might have taken a suspiciously long time.

He was unsure of his plans. It looked as though Piers was safe for thirty-six hours. There were all sorts of options and he would have to thoroughly think them through.

He breakfasted with his mother. There was still no word from Professor Dumbledore. He and Harry were both missing and his mother posited that they might be lying low together. She left for work and Danny promised to be watchful.

He was worried: there were three missing persons. He couldn't think of what to do about two of them, so he must concentrate on Piers.

After a lot of thinking, Danny decided that the best bet would be to tip off DC Leal at the Yard and hope that a raid on the van's registered address would find Piers. If the Yard proved loath to act, he was prepared to take a taxi and ask the driver to _Follow that Van!_

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He opened the door ... to DS Haldenby!

'Good morning Daniel. Mr Welch sent me here to follow up on a couple of points.'

'Come in. I'll lock the doors so we're not disturbed.'

Danny felt that this visit was good news in some unrecognised way.

They sat down and DS Haldenby said: 'It turns out you didn't tell us the full story yesterday.'

'I didn't tell any lies.'

DS Haldenby smiled: 'I'm not saying you did, Daniel, but you didn't tell us everything.'

'You don't mean that silly prank in the park?'

Danny was keeping his options open: if he had to admit to the cottaging incident, then he would; but DS Haldenby might be referring to something else, in which case his confession to a prank in the park would be turned into dropping an ice lolly down a girl's cleavage—something unverifiable.

'Yes, the PC owned up.'

'You'd think he'd be embarrassed, but then anyone prepared to sit for hours in a public loo has got to have a high embarrassment threshold.'

'We've all done it, Daniel. It's called Poof Patrol. Some of us—like me in my early days—just sit and do the crossword, telling anyone who bothers us to piss off. Others, like PC Buxton, see at as an easy way to boost their arrest count.'

'We only did it for a laugh—well, and to take the mick out of a waste of public money.' He noticed that DS Haldenby was giving him _that_ look.

'So what happened, Daniel?'

'We clocked him going in—couldn't miss him, he was so furtive. I said he was a gay and we'd better use the bushes if we wanted a pee; Piers said he was a policeman.

'Anyway, we kicked about for quite a time and thought everyone else must be on holiday, so we knocked off the football and decided to go for a wander. We went for a pee and Piers pointed at a closed cubicle. We peeped under the door and, sure enough, there was a pair of size 12s—he was _still_ there.

'So we played our little joke and went off thinking he wouldn't be putting _that_ in his report and, even if he was brave enough to write down the truth, we were only joke-impertuning which isn't a crime—I know! I know! wasting police time is, but he was wasting his own time anyway.'

DS Haldenby laughed his head off: 'You're quite right, but when we got back to Whinging last night, we found PC Buxton had heard about the kidnap and written a new report. Some of the lads were all for doing the two of you, but Mr Welch got their heads straight, and got them working on his new theory: the kidnapping was part of a worldwide homosexual trafficking scheme.'

It was Danny's turn to laugh his head off, though he noticed that DS Haldenby had crossed his legs and was looking at him in an admiring way.

DS Haldenby joined in the laughter: 'I won't go into the details of Mr Welch's theory because it was superseded as soon as he heard of St. Tiggywinkle's Wildlife Hospital.'

Danny's mouth gaped vacantly. He could merely repeat: _St. Tiggywinkle's Wildlife Hospital_.

'Ever heard of it?'

Danny shook his head.

Then can you explain why the only call made to the Polkiss family home yesterday afternoon was made, not from a public phone box as you and your mother claimed, but from St. Tiggywinkle's?'

Danny thought: _MCI can never resist covering up calls from the Ministry by using interesting-sounding Muggle people and places!_

He said: 'Of course I can't explain! I've never been to St. Tiggywinkle's—never heard of it, and yesterday afternoon I was in Hyde Park and the Dorchester. The technology's obviously gone wrong.'

DS Haldenby smiled: 'Ah, _you_ may think that and _I_ may think that, but it was another Eureka moment for Mr Welch. You see, the other victim, the old lady, was a cat-lover.'

'So?'

'Cats eat birds and small mammals, so Mrs Figg was a clear enemy of St. Tiggywinkle's. We've put the neighbours currently feeding her cats under police protection.'

'What about Piers?'

'There was a case of cruelty last year. Cruelty _to_ cats, oddly enough. Piers and his friends were questioned. They each had expensive solicitors and did _No Comment_ interviews.'

'And the ransom note?'

'Cover to draw attention away from the gang—and to get the money. Yes Danny, he's got you down as a member of St. Tiggywinkle's which is a group of vicious animal rights terrorists. He talked to the psychologist who said you had probably been denied parental love and turned your own love towards animals as a substitute. He said you would probably keep the million pounds as it would be something your parents _had_ given to you.'

Danny laughed and rose to his feet.

'Look, Sergeant!' He pulled down his bottoms.

DS Haldenby's eyes goggled.

Danny pulled down his undies revealing a money-belt with a fat wallet at the hip. He unzipped the wallet and pulled out a wad of fifty or so twenty-pound notes.

'That's the sort of pocket-money my parents give me. I'm not short of love _or_ money!'

DS Haldenby stared and stared—not at the money but at Danny's little willy swaying to and fro with Danny's gestures.

'I see you like my willy, Sergeant. Not as big as yours, though, I'll bet!'

Danny stashed the money and pulled his clothes up.

'Sergeant?'

'Yeah?'

'Men really do suck each other's willies, don't they?'

'Of course, Daniel.'

Danny moved over and crouched in front of DS Haldenby.

'Can I suck yours, please?'

'I shouldn't really ...'

But Danny was already unzipping DS Haldenby's trousers and groping through the underpants.

He finally dragged out a willy that, freed from restraints, flipped itself into a strong erection.

He took the glans in his mouth and licked it all over.

DS Haldenby murmured: 'That's nice.'

He took more of the willy in his mouth and sucked hard. Then he began moving his head up and down and wanking the lower shaft of the willy. The willy was clean but the trousers smelled of very stale pee.

DS Haldenby had both hands on Danny's head. He stroked gently, as one would a cat. His strokes started at the centre of Danny's head and ended at his ears._ So that's why so many choirboys have centre partings! _thought Danny.

When DS Haldenby came, it was with quite a gush and Danny gulped as he struggled to swallow.

He sucked in the last drop of cum, tucked in the willy and carefully zipped up the trousers. He sprang to his feet and sat crossways on DS Haldenby's lap. He put one arm round his neck and said: 'Wow! Thanks, Sergeant! I'm really a man now!'

DS Haldenby chuckled and said: 'Up to a point, Daniel and thank _you_ very much. I haven't had _that_ little treat for years.'

'When you were on Poof Patrol, did you get that little treat?'

'No, Daniel. Never fancied sex in a public lav myself. But I'll tell you what we used to do when I was at Reading.'

'Go on.'

'On the nightshift there were always tarts in the cells and the Policeman's Perk was to go downstairs and get a French, as we called it. Well, the tarts were a diseased lot of London rejects so when the rent boys started appearing, a lot of us got it off them instead.'

'But weren't you called poofs?'

'Bless you, no! We used the boys because they were cleaner and because they understood cocks better—that was our story anyway. If we'd been caught sucking one of the boys, though, we'd have been out on our ear. Most of the boys enjoyed it and they knew that if they looked after us, we'd always be fair and try and lose the paperwork or muck up the evidence.'

'And do you always come that much?'

DS Haldenby chuckled his fatherly chuckle again: 'The wife's been keeping me short. She's going through a phase—you know.'

Danny started manoeuvring: 'Sergeant, you're a good sort for a policeman; I knew you were when we smiled at each other yesterday. And you've done me a favour today so I hope you'll do me two more?'

'I reckon you did me the favour, so I owe you.'

'Well it's for Dad, really. It's not a criminal case. He wants to serve a writ on this firm that owes him money. He's got a private detective who's traced the boss's car but can't get to the man.'

'What? Most private so-called detectives have got a tame policeman to do that.'

'Yeah, but Dad's got a rule: strictly legal. One crime and you're out. But if you got it for me, it's not really a crime is it and Dad would never know.'

'OK, son. Shift yourself and give us the number'

DS Haldenby pulled one of these mobile phone things that the magic world did not yet understand. He had quite a long conversation and passed Danny a sheet of paper with the details.

'White Bedford van. Doesn't sound a big enough player to interest your dad.'

'That'll be why he stays hidden so long.'

'Anyway, you said a second favour?'

'Yeah, please can I buy you a coffee and pastry down below?'

'GORD ALMIGHTY! LOOK AT THESE PRICES!'

DS Haldenby could not have looked more shocked had he been confronted with a man slumped over a library desk with an ornate dagger of oriental design buried up to the hilt in his back.

'Just sit back and enjoy it!' chuckled Danny.

'Yeah, I could live this life. And I won't get it in the neck for being late, cos I had to wait an hour for you to get back.'

'Ha-ha! I just popped out to St. Tiggywinkle's Wildlife Hospital.'

'Old-fashioned policing, it's called. More excuses than Roger the Dodger.

'What's it like working for Mr Welch?'

'OK. Don't knock him. Most serious crimes it doesn't matter what the police do—they either solve themselves or they're insoluble. The Gov always goes for the longshots, as you've seen, and every so often he picks a winner and that's the cases people remember. He's been called brilliant!'

Danny laughed again: 'Will he want to know why you were doing a search about that van?'

'After I checked the van, I checked with the prison service that one of our villains is still inside. So when I thought I saw him in the van, it was somebody else.'

'_You're_ the brilliant one!'

'No. Most of us do dodgy searches and there's a hundred excuses we can give.'

Their early elevenses came and they munched happily.

Danny said: 'Have you got any children, Sergeant? I bet you're a brilliant father!'

'Three girls. Eighteen, fifteen, eleven. The lads at the nick are always asking how things are in the house of the nine tits.'

'Family life's good, isn't it? I wish Dad would come home.'

'Where is he, son?'

'Brazil. He's had to deal with a lot of business crises this summer.'

'I'm sure he'll be back soon. He's a clever man.'

Danny signed the bill and escorted DS Haldenby to his car. They shook hands.

'Thanks, Sergeant. I'm glad I've got to know you.'

'See yer, Danny. We'll do our best to find your friend.'

Danny was dithering: to phone DC Leal or take on the baddies himself. He re-read the van registration: Sviatoslav Grigoryevich Tolkov. An address in South London; about four miles from the Dorchester.

He decided that nothing could be lost by merely having a look. He walked back to the doorman.

'Taxi, please!'

— CHAPTER FOURTEEN —_**The House of Danger**_

Danny dismissed the taxi somewhere in the right area and, having bought an A to Z at a corner shop, found the street he wanted. The Tolkov residence was at the end of a Victorian terrace. The houses had four storeys plus a basement. The surrounding area was a bit rough and the houses had probably deteriorated before rising prices and gentrification had resulted in what was now a set of desirable middle-class homes.

Some of the houses had two bell-pushes, but most, including Tolkov's, had only one, indicating occupancy by a single family or a set of sharing professionals.

Danny walked slowly past on the opposite side of the road, glancing at the target house occasionally. There was not much to see: the externals looked sound; the windows showed reasonably clean net curtains. A parking bay marked _Disabled_ was outlined on the road.

He turned right onto a transverse road and then right again, but couldn't get a look at the rear view. However, he had earlier noticed a tall office building and, reaching this, found that it was shared by several concerns and had a communal staircase. There was no entryphone and he was able to go in, race up the stairs and get a view of the top two floors of the Tolkov building.

It was promising: he could see three net curtains, but the top left window showed a blank. Here was a room where sounds would carry neither to the street or the neighbours; and with what might be a blocked-up window. An ideal place to hold a prisoner!

His adrenaline flowed. If Rass and Svetty were working alone, he would have a chance of looking for Piers and rescuing him. Danny's picklocks were still in his pocket. He had until some time after two o'clock if the two Russians were working their usual shift.

He raced back to the Tolkov street, changed his pace to a saunter and walked very slowly up the three stone steps that lead to the front door. He glanced down into an area reached by steps leading down from the gate. There was door-size bit of unmatched brickwork where a basement door had probably once existed, and a barred window sporting a net curtain.

He pressed the bell and heard a ring. While he was waiting, he examined the lock. It was a Yale-type and there was a big flange which made using bendy plastic to push back the bolt impossible. The lock itself looked like a high-security version. Given time, a file and a blank, Danny could have cracked it, but his picklocks were useless.

He rang again and glanced down to the basement. There was a big plus in that his head would probably be able to pass through the bars; and where the head could go, the rest of him could go. The window latches looked primitive.

He decided to go for it.

After another minute, Danny checked the street was clear, went down the basement steps and rapped on the window. Underneath the steps there was a door leading to what had probably been a coalhole.

The door was secured with a mickey mouse padlock. He took out his ring of picklocks. Each of these was a handle connected to a thin rod of strong steel, bent at the end to form a tiny hook. The padlock yielded to the second picklock that Danny tried. The coalhole had a fair amount of old junk. He had hoped for a crowbar, but settled for a rusty chisel and a hammer.

He closed the door, went upstairs and rang the bell again. After waiting a while and checking the road again, he went downstairs. Regretting the absent Invisibility Cloak, he selected a stiff metal plate attached to his picklock ring and slid it between the window frames. He did not have the leverage to push the catch, but a tap on the plate with the hammer did the trick.

He raised the bottom half of the sash window and slowly pushed his head through the bars. It passed through easily and he pulled himself up and slithered his body sideways onto the window ledge. He lowered his feet to the floor, closed the window and moved round the net curtain.

He was in!

The house was very still, but Danny listened hard while looking around. The big room had a plush carpet and posh-looking wallpaper but was totally empty. He walked to the door and looked out onto a passage leading from the front door, past the stairs and towards a back window which, together with the fanlight over the front door, provided light for the passage.

He tiptoed out and looked through the first door. The room L-shaped and was obviously a much-used sitting room. There was a smell of stale tobacco. There were three armchairs and a sofa, focused on the inevitable TV. A sideboard had some junk including a book. _Victorian People_!

_Eureka!_

There was a neat little pile—probably of Piers' stuff: stacked on the book were a key-ring, thirty-five pounds plus loose change, some chewing gum and a pen. Danny pocketed it all, noting the discipline implied by the intact money.

He went up the stairs, seeing a comfortable bedroom through an open door. The carpeting gave out at the second floor and he stepped onto the bare boards of the next staircase.

Suddenly, he was aware of activity behind him and turned to see a huge man—a giant of a man, though not of Hagrid stature— running at him. The giant hugged Danny in what seemed a parody of lovemaking.

Danny was helpless as he was carried up two flights of stairs. A key was turned, and the giant muttered _Bastard!_ as he threw Danny onto the floor.

Piers was sitting on a bare mattress. The key turned in door as Piers sprang up yelling: 'Danny! They got you too! What's it all about?'

Danny gave Piers a quick hug and whispered: 'No time! I'll pick the lock and we'll creep down the stairs. If we can't get past the man without him seeing us, the nearest of us obstructs him and the other legs it out the front door and calls the police.

He pulled out his picklocks and turned to the door. _There was no keyhole._

Danny felt ice down his spine. He turned and inspected the attic room. It was bare except for two mattresses, two chairs and what, seeing a roll of lavvy paper, he assumed to be a chemical closet in the corner. Piers' conditions might not be up to Dorchester standards, but they were reasonably humane. The windows had not been bricked up, thank goodness, but were shuttered. The shutters were of conventional hinged type but fastened all round with an array of powerful-looking screws.

Danny took out the chisel. He tapped the wall shared with the next room. It was made of something more solid than plasterboard. It would have to be the shutters.

'Piers, we need to lever the shutters by the screws, like this. You're the strongest, so do it. Quietly and slowly so there's no sudden crack.'

Piers set to work. He did it with intelligence. He levered a shutter up by half an inch; then again by the next screw. When he had completed a circuit, he went back to the beginning, enhancing half-inches to three-quarter-inches. Eventually, and with minimal noise, enough of the shuttering had been freed to enable Piers to open the window and look out.

'We won't get out that way.' said Piers, What'll we do? Wave to the neighbours, and hope they call the police?'

Danny looked out.

'There's a drainpipe. Just out of reach, but I think we can jump to it and climb down.'

Piers leant against a wall, pressing hard as though he wanted it to clasp him, his face pale and quivering.

'No! I couldn't! I couldn't! We'd fall!'

Danny looked at Piers. He was genuinely terrified.

'OK Piers, then we'll have to try this.' Danny explained his plan.

They returned the shutters to an appearance of normality and arranged a mattress over a chair creating what they hoped was a Danny-sized hump. Then Piers starting banging on the door, shouting 'Help! Help! He's killing me!' Danny threw the other chair around the room creating the noise of a vicious fight.

As soon as they heard the man clumping on the bare boards, they took up stations: Piers crouched on the mattress as though holding down his assailant and Danny by the inward-opening door. Danny would have liked the roles to be reversed, but the prospect of Danny restraining Piers lacked credibility.

The key turned and the giant came in. Piers slid down the mattress and turned sideways, weeping noisily in his crouched position.

The giant took two steps forward and Danny, knowing that speed was more important than weight, kicked off from the wall and emerged from behind the door to push the giant as hard as possible in the small of the back.

The giant fell forward as Piers raised himself, giving the giant's feet some upward impetus. They ran to the door and Danny, seeing that the giant was still flat out, took the time to close it and turn the key.

There was one rattle of the handle as they raced down the stairs. Then they reached the carpet, the front door, the doorstep. They were free!

Danny led them to a telephone box on the main road. There would be no more solo heroics! He fished out DC Leal's card and inserted some of Piers' money, saying: 'This is yours. And so is this.'

He restored Piers' belongings and dialled.

A voice answered: 'DC Leal.'

'Mr Leal, I'm with Piers. We've escaped!'

'Where are you?'

Danny gave DC Leal their location, the location of the kidnappers' house and a summary of the situation.

'Can you see the bus stop?'

'Yes.'

'Wait there, it'll look less suspicious. The police'll be there in five minutes.'

In fact, they waited for more than ten minutes at the bus stop before a car driven by DC Leal pulled up.

'Get in boys. I'm Detective Constable Leal. How are you, Piers?'

'OK, thanks, Constable.'

'Good. Now listen, boys and I'll tell you the score. The guy you locked in was probably kitted up—a gun in a shoulder holster and a mobile phone in his pocket. They're instructed to do that at all times.

'The guy will have raised the alarm with the gang leader and he'll have done what they call _papering the house_. This means summoning two or three dozen Russians—harmless, non-criminal men and women—lots of them old-age pensioners. These people do jobs for the gang—not dangerous or illegal, but useful. If they don't obey, they are executed and they all know it.

'When I knock on the front door, some harmless O.A.P. will answer with a story that I'm interrupting a Russian emigré social. If I insist on coming in, he'll call out a harmless phrase and a horde of Russians will leave the back door hoping to disguise the villains.

'That's where I'd like your help: I've managed to get a dozen policemen hopefully well-hidden, in the back garden. The three of us will rush through the house and, though the O.A.P.s will be obstructing our men, if you identify the villains, we should get them.'

'What about guns?' asked Danny.

'Probably won't be used.' said DC Leal, 'Once they start shooting, the stakes are raised and every copper in town will be looking for them; and even if they manage to ditch the guns, their bodies and clothes are contaminated with propellant. Some of our men are armed, just in case.

'What about the front door?' asked Piers.

'Good question!' said DC Leal, 'We have a squad in the back of an unmarked van who will seal off the front door after we've gone in.'

They drove to a side-street where DC Leal stopped. He pressed a button on his mobile phone and spoke: 'All in place? ... Knocking in sixty seconds.'

He drove off quickly, turned a corner and parked in the _Disabled_ bay.

'Out boys, quick!'

They raced to the house. DC Leal pushed the boys in front of him and said: 'Straight to the back when I say!'

He rang the bell.

The door was answered immediately and Piers yelled: 'THAT'S ONE OF 'EM!'

'GO BOYS, GO!' shouted DC Leal and pushed them inside ... into the arms of the giant and two other strongly built men.

The boys looked round for support from the policeman.

'Sorry, Danny!' he said, 'I told you it was an inside job,' and, closing the door behind him, left the boys to their fate.

Danny was mortified: how could they have fallen for that ridiculous story? _Papering the house_? Twaddle! Policemen hiding in an area overlooked by fifty-plus windows? Twaddle! Russian gangs afraid to use guns? Twaddle! Police using two schoolboys to spearhead a raid on armed men? Super-twaddle!

A handsome brute who seemed to be in charge spoke: 'Welcome back! We've kept your room for you! And even Smerdy won't fall for that trick again!'

His companion, who was more thuggish-looking, laughed. He then spoke in Russian:

_We gotta tell him, Svetty._

Svetty replied:

_No! Any complication and his twenty percent goes up to fifty._

_But we told him a lie! He'll finish us!_

The presumed Rass and the giant Smerdy were carrying the boys up the stairs as Svetty argued:

_We got the boy plus one. No security breach. We're safe._

_Not if he finds out that we kept him in the dark! We're dead, Svetty, dead!_

_Dump these and we'll talk._

They pushed the boys into the attic room, locked them in and tramped down the stairs, still arguing.

Danny didn't waste a moment: 'It's the window or nothing!'

The shutters were as they had left them. Danny leant out the window. The drainpipe looked a long way away. Danny could not stop himself: he looked down. Three and a half storeys is a long way to fall and Danny's knees trembled as he thought of his body splatted on the ground.

He tried to look brave and resourceful as he turned to Piers: 'I'll go down and come back to fetch you.'

He climbed out onto the window ledge. It was narrow. How stupid it would be to fall off without even reaching the drain pipe.

He steadied his body and looked at the pipe. He was not much weight, but the pipe looked fragile. And it might be slippery.

He steadied his mind. The house seemed in good repair and the pipe was probably firm. He planned a scenario to cover the pipe ripping off the wall. He would have to slither down quickly and hope that the next fixing-point held.

He inched along the window ledge. His knees were knocking. _Come on Danny! Come on Hogwarts!_ he thought. _Come on Gryffindor! Harry Potter for ever!_

He steeled himself one last time and kicked off from the end of the window ledge. He made the pipe and got a good grip with his hands. It was not slippery, but _the bracket pulled away from the wall_.

He'd mucked things up: a quick slither was out of the question as, in his terror, his knees were gripping the pipe as tightly as his hands. But the bracket was holding! It had pulled out a good inch, but was holding—just.

Mentally thanking the British worker who had not botched the job, he let himself down hand over hand, loosening and retightening his knees as he moved down. It wasn't exactly a slither, but it was pretty quick.

Then, at last, he was on firm concrete. There was no time to rejoice. He crouched low, so as not to be visible from the kitchen window and considered what to do. Why, oh why, had he not taken five minutes to get the Invisibility cloak—and his wand, come to that? Surely this was an _exceptional circumstance_.

The back door was too risky, so he scaled the wall into next door's garden. This house was a semi, but was connected to the Tolkov house by a high wall topped with broken glass set in concrete.

He plucked up courage and tapped on the back door. He didn't know which was the worse prospect: breaking into the house or confronting an angry householder.

The door was answered quickly and an old boy said sharply: 'What are you doing in our garden?' Danny could see his missus peering from down the passage.

'Please, Sir, I live next door and the back door slammed on me and I can't get in. Mum's out and so are the lodgers. Please may I go through your house?'

'You're a robber, aren't you?' snapped the man, 'I wasn't born yesterday! I'm going to call the police.'

Danny was uncomfortably aware of a hammer and chisel just visibly protruding out of his combat trousers and a set of picklocks in his jacket.

'Oh no, Sir! I live next door. You must have seen me. I just went out to unblock the drain. Dad left us and the lodgers won't do anything, so I'm all Mum's got. And if I can just get to the front, I can get in through the front room. And the stew's in the oven and it needs turning down.' Danny started snivelling.

'Oh let the boy through, Edward!' He saw that the woman was old and sour-faced. Never judge by appearances!

Reluctantly, Edward stepped aside. As Danny was walking down the passage, the woman said: 'Funny lot your lodgers.'

'I'll say!' said Danny, 'They're Russians, but they're OK when you get to know them.'

The woman let him out and he skipped down next door's steps. The front window was still unlocked and he eased it up—slowly so as to minimise the noise, but making it seem to be very heavy to explain the slowness to the couple next door.

He turned and gave a thumbs-up to the couple who, as he had expected, were goggling at him. Then, with ease due to practice, he raised himself and clambered through the bars.

He closed the window lest increased traffic noise alerted the Russians, who he could hear talking in the next room. He crept out to the passage and listened. Smerdy, bless him, was having his say so Danny could hear three voices. All clear!

He raced up the carpeted stairs and tiptoed up the bare boards only to find that the key to Piers' attic was missing.

He had the picklocks out in a trice, but his hands were trembling and it was only after trying several picklocks—each for a long time—before he got any movement. He was about to give up and have a go at levering the thing off with the chisel when a tiny adjustment led to a click and the lock turned. Bless you Fred and George, too!

Holding the picklock firmly in position with one hand, he turned the door handle with the other and pushed the door open.

He beckoned the startled Piers out and re-locked the door.

They crept downstairs and had just reached the carpeted landing on the second floor when there was movement below and arguing Russian voices could be heard.

_It's murder. If we're caught, our life's over._

_Shut up! You were the one who wanted to call him in the first place._

Danny and Piers hurried into the nearest room with an open door. It was furnished like the attic, but with four mattresses. They hid behind the door and listened to the argument, though only Danny knew what it concerned:

_Svetty, we went to do a simple kidnap. We got Big Ivan's permission. We did everything right and we can still get the dosh._

_We get it anyway._

_No, they'll want proof that he's still alive before paying a copeck._

_I don't believe that. Now listen, Rass, if Big Ivan says rope, fridge and saw, that's it. It's rope, fridge and saw._

Danny was chilled, but he was glad that Piers was unaware that, if Danny had guessed right, they were to be strangled, frozen and power-sawn up into little pieces for easy disposal.

At one point during his terrifying leap for the drainpipe, Danny had been aware of some loss of weight. He wondered whether, had he missed the pipe, Emotional Magic would have seen him floating safely down to the ground.

If he and Piers were being strangled, would his innate magic powers see him through? He didn't want it put to the proof!

As he was pondering these mysteries, the lock was turned and Smerdy's voice called:

_They've gone! The window!_

There was a stampede of feet and a babble of voices:

_They can't have! ... Can you see them? ... They must have had a rope ... And where have they gone?_

Then, the authoritative voice of Svetty:

_Rass get on to Leal. Smerdy wipe the prints then come down and check for anything naughty. I'll call Big Ivan._

There was a clumping on the stairs and the sound of mobile phone conversations fading as Rass and Svetty went down to the ground floor. Two minutes later, the floor shook as Smerdy followed his colleagues.

The two terrified boys were clutching each other tightly. Danny realised that something had happened: 'Piers, I'm sorry, I've shat myself.'

He wriggled in his boxers and a small, neat turd slid down his leg. He shook it out of his trousers. The light relief was welcome and Piers whispered: 'Danny we have a shit friendship!'

The boys were suppressing their giggles when Danny suddenly whispered: 'Oh, bloody hell!'

He pulled down his trousers and undies and squatted just in time as a long snake of sticky-looking poo propelled itself from his bum and coiled up on the floor.

'I'm sorry, Piers' he whispered as he rose and pulled his clothes up.

There was a strong aroma.

'It's a nice smell!' whispered Piers, 'It reminds me that I've screwed you in the arse.'

'Let's hope you get the chance of doing it again!'

They heard louder voices from below and carefully crept out to listen. Svetty was instructing Smerdy:

_Right! Leal's got his men alerted. If the straight police find them, Leal will intercept. Big Ivan's got men watching the mother, the hotel and the stations. He's papered the streets round here. _(That much was true, then! thought Danny.) _You stay here and be ready to let anyone in. Double check that the sitting room's clean. We're going to Big Ivan's._

The front door slammed.

The boys gave it two minutes, then crept down the stairs to the first floor. They could hear Smerdy moving things about in the L-shaped room.

They crept down another flight; then another half-a-flight. Danny, in the lead, could see that the door to the room where Smerdy was working was nearly closed.

They moved swiftly to the front door. There was a set of keys on a little table by the door. Danny found a Yale key. He opened the door and inserted the key. It fitted which meant that he could close the door silently. As an afterthought, he tried another turn. Yes! It was a deadlock and Smerdy couldn't open the door from the inside.

They were free, but surrounded by enemies!

— CHAPTER FIFTEEN —_**What Happened to Piers**_

Danny's first thought was to let the International Statute of Secrecy bugger itself and to take Piers in a taxi to the Leaky Cauldron.

Then he considered: Scumbag had returned. His number one enemy was Harry Potter. Now Harry and his mentor had both disappeared. Moreover, two Muggles from Harry's town had been kidnapped.

He didn't go much for Welch-type conspiracy theories, but four incidents involving closely-linked people were too much to swallow.

So the magic world was unsafe and, in the Muggle world, they were being hunted by the Metropolitan Police and a gang of ruthless Russians who would, no doubt, shoot or knife them on sight.

So where could they hide? His mother was being watched. A public convenience would be very inconvenient. Hotels would be obvious places for the police to check.

They were walking on back streets in a direction away from the city centre and away from Russian spies—they hoped. They both realised they were starving and risked buying some food from a corner-shop.

As they walked along, munching, Danny had a brain-wave: _Mundungus Fletcher!_

Mundungus was a wizard who knew the Muggle world well. If anyone could help them, he could.

Mundungus had done business with Stephen Jorrocks and, as a kid, Danny had enjoyed riding in Mundungus' Muggle van. He knew Mundungus' lock-up at the Elephant and Castle—the _Excrement and Arsehole_ as Mundungus called it.

When they came to a main road, they lurked at a corner until a taxi appeared. They flagged it down and Danny gave the driver directions.

'You got the money?' asked the driver—he must have suffered from runners in the past and two scruffy boys would not be his ideal fares.

Danny pulled out a twenty and gave it to the driver: 'This do?'

The driver grunted and set off.

The boys kept low in the cab—especially as they drove along a section of the main road by the Tolkov residence. Danny checked his A to Z and gave the driver an exact address.

It was a quiet period and the cab had an easy run, dropping them off two streets away from the lock-up.

'Keep the change.' said Danny and they walked away smartly, leaving the cab driver inspecting the banknote suspiciously.

The lock-up was protected by a good-quality padlock—but not good enough quality to resist Danny's picklocks.

They lifted the door and walked in to find piles of boxes of every size stacked in a disorderly manner.

They pulled the door down behind them, leaving a fifteen inch gap at the bottom.

Danny pressed the owl-charm round his neck and settled down to pen a letter:

_Dear Mr Fletcher,_

_I am at your lock-up in the E & C. I have a Statute of Secrecy person with me and we need hiding._

_This is important and my father will pay VERY high expenses for your assistance._

_Daniel Jorrocks_

Five minutes latter, there was a flutter of wings and Tickles appeared.

'Hello, Tickles!' said Danny, giving the owl's neck a short tickle, 'This is important!'

The owl took the letter in his beak and flew off immediately.

'Bloody Hell! I don't believe it!' Piers' expression matched his words.

'Another CIA innovation. Don't say a word. In the meantime, I need some flesh!'

Danny pulled Piers into a snogging session which was enriched with Finnigan enhancements. There was a lot of moaning and two very stiff willies pressed hard—one to a thigh and one to a tummy.

Piers broke off and knelt down —the action accompanied by pulling down Danny's bottom and undies.

He took all of Danny's willy in his mouth and immediately sucked hard. His hands were clutching Danny's bumcheeks and, while Danny was groaning with pleasure, he started nodding his head.

Danny stroked Piers' head in the approved choirboy mode. There was something special about ash-blond hair.

Despite his sexual activity that morning, Danny had not come all day and was ready for an explosion. The pleasure was intense and went to out-of-this-world level when Piers inserted a finger about two inches up Danny's bumhole.

Danny came immediately—a long, urgent come, with a long, urgent spurt.

He pushed Piers away and shuffled over to a suitably-sized box. He bent down and panted: 'Go for it Piers.'

Piers needed no encouragement. Within a couple of seconds Danny could feel the pointed willy nudging the hole and then being rammed up as Piers bounced away as vigorously as on the last occasion. His hands were under Danny's top and his fingers tweaking the nipples when he came: and there was no mistaking the come: a frantic thrusting was accompanied by loud high-pitched howls.

Piers lay panting across Danny for some time than whispered: 'Bloody hell! Sex with two people is a hundred times better than sex for one!'

He pulled his willy out of Danny with a squelching noise and the lads rose. They had another quick snog, gently stroking each other's hair, and pulled their kit up.

The Piers said: 'Oh shit!'

'What?' said Danny, glancing at the door in some alarm.

'Shit! It's everywhere!'

Piers was exaggerating a little, but there _were_ a number of stains on their clothes.

'It's definitely Grade 2 compared to yesterday. I think you quite enjoyed having a little of my shit around the place, didn't you Piers?'

Piers blushed delightfully, as he had with the two queens on the bus.

'Guilty as charged!' he said.

'Nothing to blush about, mate, but we'd better spruce ourselves up. Mundungus'll see us straight. We'll have a rummage through his boxes and, while we're doing that, you can tell me how they got you.'

Piers began his narrative:

_Well, I left your bedroom, as you know. I was floating on a cloud of happiness—genuinely looking forward to a day out with the family, seeing Gran and getting a phone call off you._

_As I came out your room, I turned right to go to the lift and I vaguely noticed some hotel staff to the left._

_Before I'd gone three paces, one of them grabbed me from behind and put a hand over my mouth. I could hardly breathe._

_He ran me down the corridor into a service lift where the other one gagged me and tied my wrists and ankles. They put me in this big basket and I felt the lift going down._

_They didn't speak. It was eerie. I wasn't scared, just kept wondering what was going on._

_They pushed me some way and I heard one of them say: 'More emergency laundry. This hotel couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery!' It was a foreign accent._

_I sensed we were in the fresh air, but not for long. I was lifted into a wagon which set off right away._

_There was a ride of twenty minutes, or so, then I was unshipped and trundled inside. They freed me and marched me up the stairs to the room that you saw._

_The leader sneered at me: 'Not as good as the Dorchester, but you've got all you need. It's usually some very nice girls we entertain here.'_

_I said: 'What's going on? Why am I here?' and he said: 'Your daddy's going to pay us a nice little bit of money to get you back.'_

_I was totally baffled, as you can imagine and just lay there in shock, I suppose._

_The one they call Smerdy brought me decent takeaways for lunch and dinner, with water and pop and lemon tea. I asked him for my book, but he didn't understand, so I mimed reading and turning the pages and he said _Nyet!_ so I knew they were Russian._

_I didn't expect to sleep much that night, but I went out like a light—they left the light on, by the way, so I could use the lav and have a wander._

_When I woke up my mind was spinning. The mattress wasn't too dirty but there was a bit of a smell of girl's perfume and I reckoned they were pimps._

_Then I thought perhaps they were going to pimp me and hire me out to dirty old men. And, forgive me Danny, just for an instant I wondered if you were their agent, going round looking for gay boys to be forced into prostitution. But I recognised that as just silly paranoia and started thinking from scratch._

_I thought of what they said about my dad paying a ransom. He's reasonably well-to-do but not rich enough to pay a significant ransom—and, to be honest, I'm not sure if he'd want to. We've never been close and I can imagine him pontificating about having two other children to support._

_Smerdy brought me a nice breakfast roll and lemon tea—I should have guessed they were Russian._

_Then the blindingly obvious struck me: I'd been kidnapped by mistake for you._

_I felt sort of glad that you'd escaped. I thought that when they'd found out their mistake, they'd free me. I didn't know where I was, so I couldn't give them away._

_But then I remembered that I could ID them and I knew the Dorchester connection and they were Russian mafia, so they'd kill me._

_I would have lost control and started screaming, except that it was quite funny that forty-eight hours earlier I'd decided to kill myself. I just decided to mentally relax and accept whatever Fate threw at me._

_And fate arrived in the form of Danny Jorrocks._

By the time Piers had finished his narrative, they had found some good chav kit from Mundungus' stock. They kept their trainers as they were virtually unsullied, but changed the rest of their clothes, Danny wiping his bum with the cleanest of the discarded clothes.

Danny took his comb out of a pocket and thoroughly combed out some shit which had found its way into his hair. _Yes, mum I've combed my hair!_ he thought.

They hid their old clothes right at the back of the lock-up and sent them into their afterlife on a flood of piss, giggling and staring at each other's willies.

Piers asked about Mundungus and Danny told him he was a slightly dodgy character but would surely be able to hide them.

There was one false alarm when a car drove by to use another lock-up. The driver gave them a close look, but he gave everywhere a close look and was in and out of his lock-up in a trice.

Danny guessed that he was a burglar who didn't want to keep his equipment at home. If he was lucky, the equipment, plus some loot, would be stashed in the lock-up a few hours later. Danny thought that the greenest policemen would categorise him as easily as if he had being going round with _CRIMINAL_ tattooed on his forehead.

A second vehicle approached and they looked under the door. _A white Bedford van_!

'IT'S THEM!' yelled Danny.

— CHAPTER SIXTEEN —_**Mundungus' Den**_

It was Piers' turn to show his mettle. 'Leg it!' he shouted, 'And get on the first bus we can!'

The boys raised the garage door and ran towards a fence which marked the boundary of the line of lock-ups. If they could beat the van to the fence, it would become a foot-race.

The driver revved the van and screeched after them.

They knew it was hopeless but carried on running.

Danny knew that his life was coming to its end. The van would run them over and they would be finished off with a knife or a gun. He felt a surge at anger at Fate: they hadn't deserved this. It was all because Danny had been seeking his old friend and Piers had been seeking a new friend.

There was a skid and a voice rang out: 'Master Daniel! Whassup?'

'It's OK, Piers!' yelled Danny, 'We're OK! Back to the lock-up!'

They ran back into the lock-up. Mundungus, clearly appreciating their wish for privacy, drove his van to the front of the lock-up and got out.

Danny knew about a Muggle concept called Quality Control. In this field, Mundungus was supreme: no matter what the season or the circumstances, he always had exactly the same length of scarecrow-like ginger hair, the same five-day stubble, the same number of tears, stains and bulges in his shabby clothes.

'Whatyer doin'? First you calls me up an' then you scarpers.' said the paragon.

'We thought you were someone else. We didn't think there'd be more than one white Bedford in London.' said Danny, 'Now, business first! We've helped ourselves to some of your clothes.'

''Ow'd you get in?'

'Picked the lock.'

'You wouldn't've done that in the old days. It was so protected you wouldn't believe. Then I got done for it. I've risked a little RM—he couldn't've got in 'cept wiv you'

An RM was a _Repello Muggletum_ which gave better protection against Muggles than any padlock.

Danny was fumbling in his hidden wallet.

'Anyway, Mr Fletcher, we've had about eighty pounds-worth of clothes off you. So here's a couple of long'uns.' Danny handed over ten twenty-pound notes which Mundungus took in a sort of controlled grab.

Mundungus looked the boys over: 'Got any jockeys?'

'Yeah.' said Danny, 'And if you're going to steal—sorry, _acquire_—designer labels, you might at least _acquire_ the real stuff. It seems like conning people twice.'

'Fakes is good for everyone: the people in the fird world's saved from starvin'; honest traders can keep afloat; an' it don't matter to the twits wot buys cloves for their labels. Anyway that's a hundred'n'twenty quidsworth you got here.'

'It's still two hundred quid profit.' laughed Danny.

'Wot you on about? These clothes cost me forty quid—no, eighty—no an 'undred!' Mundungus rewrote history as he saw Danny peeling off two more notes.'

'There! That's good business!' said Danny, 'Now I'd better introduce you: my friend, Piers Polkiss—Mr Mundungus Fletcher.'

'Pleased ter meet yer.'

'How do you do, Mr Fletcher.'

'Well, Mr Polkiss, wen those cloves goes outer fashion I can do you a good deal on all the latest stuff—top quality, genuine stuff too.'

'Later, Mr Fletcher.' laughed Danny. 'We desperately need somewhere to lie low. We're being chased all over—the police, the Russians—and, you know—others as well—good and bad'uns.'

Mundungus pulled a tin from his pocket and started on a roll-up. 'Well I'd like to help yer Danny, but I'm just an honest citizen now since that last time I was away.'

'I didn't say you weren't, Mr Fletcher, but I remember your little retreat in the East End. Me and Dad went there and I'm sure you've still got it.'

'I won't deny it, Master Daniel, but I've got a guest there, an' she won't want to be disturbed.'

'We won't disturb her, and I'm pleased you've got a girl at last.'

'Not that sort of girl!' Mundungus laughed, showing teeth in a spectrum of greys, browns and yellows. 'Not that I've ever gone short. I may be a bit rough but the gals always likes that in a man.'

'Anyway, we'll be as good as gold and we won't cause you or your guest any trouble.'

'Tell ter wot I'll do: I've got summat on, but if you lads spend the night 'ere, I'll pick yer up at 'arf pas' nine in the morning.'

Please, Mr Fletcher, we need to lose ourselves now! Can you remember my—you know—pet animal'

'Eh? Oh yeah. Monkey.'

'Well we'll be like the three wise monkeys: See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, won't we Piers?'

'Yeah, Mr Fletcher, you're as hundred percent safe with us.' put in Piers.

Danny took out his banknotes and separated one of them. 'And we're hungry. Can you stop for a carry-out on the way?' He handed over a note. 'And you'd better have some more to cover your costs—here's four plenties to begin with. We'll settle up when we're in the clear. And if I haven't got enough, Dad'll see you right for the rest.'

Mundungus took the notes and, trying not to look pleased, nodded: 'OK then. In the back. And mind them dresses.'

A hundred or so dresses were suspended from a rail in the back of the van. Danny and Piers found boxes to sit on and Mundungus slammed the door closed.

Mundungus drove off at a fast, but reassuring speed. Danny, not for the first time, was impressed that such a disreputable wizard had mastered the difficult Muggle art of driving.

As the van swayed, the two boys found it convenient to share a box and bolster each other up. Then they found it convenient to cling together for better support. Then they found it convenient to commence a red-hot snogging session.

The back of the van was dark, being lit only by two small, dirty windows set in the back doors. So, safe from observation, the boys enjoyed a pleasant spell of kiss-and-grope, pausing only when Mundungus stopped for five minutes, presumably to pick up the food.

At the end of the journey, Mundungus, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, let them out and they saw that they were in a dark alley running between parallel streets of Victorian terraced artisan houses. Mundungus had parked his van in the back yard of a particularly anonymous specimen.

Mundungus was carrying two plastic bags. He closed the gate leading to the alley and ushered the lads up the path. Piers had hung back and now he called: 'Mr Fletcher, that gate looks narrower than your van.'

'Optical hillusion, young sir!' shouted back Mundungus, then hissed at Danny: 'Two wizards here: the Muggles starts to _notice_ things—that's why I was a bit doubtful. 'Ave a word!'

He unlocked a door and led them in, turning left into the kitchen and saying: 'Go through boys'n'I'll dish up the grub.'

Danny opened a door and found himself in a tiny sitting room, whose furnishings created a maze for anyone wanting to move about the room. There was a three-piece suite in expensive-looking leather; a centre-flap dining table with four chairs; a side-cabinet with beautiful carvings; a gigantic TV.

An old lady was sitting in one of the armchairs. As Danny passed she paused her knitting and looked up: 'Hello! Who are you?'

'Danny Jorrocks.'

'Arabella Figg(Mrs).' They shook hands and Mrs Figg said: 'You must be young Stephen's son. My Alf used to do some work for him when he was setting up the docks—AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHH HHHHH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, YOU HEAP OF DOG SHIT?

There was a moment's silence, as though people were feeling themselves for injuries after being bombed.

Then Mrs Figg addressed Piers again: 'I asked you a question! What's a wishy-washy second-class little bullying dirty jam-rag like you spreading your snail-slime round respectable houses?'

Danny was baffled, but also amused: 'Mrs Figg, whatever he's done, it cannot be used as an excuse for such egregious mixing of metaphors.'

There was another moment of silence, disturbed only by the sound of Mundungus clumping through the door.

Mrs Figg turned her attention to Danny: 'I'll give you metaphors, young Jorrocks! You've been brought up in a good home. You've had the best education money could buy. What do you want to be going round with the lowest of lowlife for? Look at him! It was a dark hour for us all when he managed to crawl out the bucket to which his harlot of a mother consigned him when she was six months gone!'

Danny, suppressing laughter, said: 'Come on, Mrs Figg! He knows he was bad when he was younger, but he's a changed boy.'

'Change? The only change that would suit him would be to be tied in a sack weighted with the wreckage of all the bus shelters and litter bins he's smashed and sunk in the middle of the pond in the King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra Park! And he bullies little boys and throws stones at cats!'

'Not any more, Miss!' said Piers, 'Danny's right. I'm really, really sorry. I was everything you said, but not any more.'

'And I suppose you're going to tell me that that pig-faced barrel of lard Dursley's changed too.'

Danny's ears pricked up.

'Yes, as it happens; we're both sorry and you'll get no more trouble from us. Believe me, bad people can reform and we have!'

Danny was thinking hard: _So Piers' gang-leader was Dudley. So Piers knows Harry Potter—used to bully Harry Potter. And Mrs Figg is the missing old lady of Little Whinging. So why is she here? Mundungus Fletcher hasn't kidnapped her; she's here willingly._

Mrs Figg snorted: 'That remains to be seen, but you still haven't answered my question—Ah! Of course!—You're here as a witness!'

She turned to Mundungus, who was goggling at the door. 'Dung, you never told me—'

'Statute of Secrecy applies, Ma'am. I don't wanna get done for that!'

'Oh!' Mrs Figg turned back to Piers and said: 'So he's a you-know ... but then he won't be any use as a witness—they can't actually see the D-things.'

'He aint a witness. He come here wiv Master Daniel. They gotta hide.'

Danny asked: 'Why should Piers be a witness, Mrs Figg?'

Mundungus interrupted: 'Not now! There's more important things. Arabella will you 'elp me bring the boots in before it gets cold?'

The food when it appeared was Chinese.

Despite his personal appearance, Mundungus kept a clean house and lived in some style. There was a real tablecloth and real matching, crested silver cutlery. The food had been decanted from the foil containers into pottery bowls of the same exquisite pattern as the plates.

Mundungus indicated _Pork, Beef, Chicken, Duck, Prawns, Rice, Rice, Crackers_. and invited them to 'Get yer Hampsteads stuck in!'

'Please, Mr Fletcher,' asked Danny, 'Did you say Hampsteads or Hamptons?'

Mundungus choked: 'Steady on, Danny! Ladies present!'

'Which makes my question even more pertinent!'

Mundungus choked even more and swigged off half a glass of red Burgundy—about ten pounds-worth. Mrs Figg was sipping an equally expensive German white—a Riesling, but not a Riesling as most people know it. The boys were drinking squash.

There was some abatement in the pace of eating and Danny asked again: 'Why should Piers be a witness, Mrs Figg?'

'Statute, Figgy!' warned Mundungus.

'Nonsense, Dung! This boy's a neighbour of Harry.'

'_Harry Potter?_' shouted Danny.

'You know Harry Potter?' said Piers.

'_Mrs Figg! Is Harry OK?_'

'Of course he's OK. Dum—his headmaster's got him safe—like me!' She beamed at Mundungus.

'Thank Heavens!' said Danny, Why do _you_ need keeping safe Mrs Figg?'

'Well, Harry's got a hearing—a sort of disciplinary hearing to do with his school.'

Piers asked: 'Is that St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys?'

'Yes, Dear—_Dear!_ Oh listen to me! You'd better _really_ be a good boy and maybe you can meet my cats and apologise to them. Anyway the Headmaster asked Dung to keep me safe.'

'Which I 'ave!' said Mundungus.

'Danny! Do you go to the same school as Harry?' asked Piers.

'Yeah, but keep it quiet. There's things to do with my dad's company and the CIA and that.'

'But you're not Incurably Criminal!'

'I was, and so was Harry. We're like you. We've changed, so let's not talk about it.'

'OK.' said Piers, then turned to Mundungus. 'Mr Fletcher, why did you call the food _boots_?

'Chinky—Kinky Boots. Rhyming slang.'

'That's clever. Can you tell us some more, please?'

Mundungus obliged and gave them some of the classics. He accidentally mentioned _James Hunt_ and _Donald Duck_, but moved quickly on.

Danny was pondering, meanwhile. There was something so obvious, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Mundungus and Mrs Figg had been warmed up by the wine and started swapping rhyming slang challenges. These started as simple ones, but soon advanced to such complexities as Mrs Figg's _I Dung Sally Carter with mother_.

This translated as _I betcher can't get this'un_.

They were arguing aver admissibility when Danny volunteered the two boys to wash up.

In the kitchen, he said to Piers: 'I can't get over you knowing Harry!'

Piers said: I can't get over _you_ knowing Harry!'

'I should have guessed: your description of your gangleader matched Harry's description of Dudley!'

'Do you know that Harry was the first boy to turn me on.'

'You amaze me. How can you get turned on when you're bullying someone?'

'It's more complicated than that. You see, I might hold Harry from behind while Dudley jabbed him. But they weren't hard jabs. Everyone knew that Harry Potter was a bit weird and it wasn't a good idea to really hurt him. So it was more like gentle poking and verbals.

'And I think Harry actually enjoyed it. He was getting some attention. He didn't get any at school 'cos most of the teachers and pupils had as little to do with him as poss. And he certainly didn't get any attention at home—did he tell you he had to sleep under the stairs?'

Danny nodded: 'So was it his loneliness that attracted you?'

'A bit, but it was mainly physical. I noticed that when I was holding him I always went stiff. Then I took to crouching, and pressing my willy against his bum. We were only eight. I didn't know what bumming was, but it felt natural and right. I don't know if he ever felt my stiffie on his bum. I wanted to be his friend so we could show each other our willies, but Dudley ruled everything.

'I saw Harry's willy a few times when he was peeing. It was just magic. Then we went to separate schools and you met him. I'm guessing he's the boy you were saving your sex for?'

'Yeah. And today was another one: I've been sucked before, but never come in anyone's mouth. I've lost four virginities to you!'

'Don't forget, I've lost four to you, too!'

They laughed happily and returned to Mundungus' back room.

'Well done, gents!' said Mundungus and winked at Danny who knew that, but for Piers' presence, the washing up would have been done by Magic.

'You're welcome, Mr Fletcher. It's not much to do to thank you for saving our lives.'

Then he had it! He'd gone to Mundungus as someone who could straddle the Muggle and wizard worlds. But there was someone else who could do that. Someone much more powerful!

He said to them: 'The Headmaster: he hasn't been answering mail. Are you sure he's safe and in control?'

Mundungus grunted, but Mrs Figg said: 'Of course, Danny! He's probably got to prioritise his mail. And he's organised everything beautifully. He's got Harry safe and he's got Dung to look after me and he knows if there's any problem, I've only got to press this, er , pager.' She fingered a small medallion hanging round her neck. 'He'll turn up straight away.'

'Mr Fletcher!' said Danny, 'Your problems are over! Our problems are over! The Headmaster'll take us off your hands. We'll be safe and you can get on with your business and my dad'll sort you out for your help. I'll suggest a grand!'

'No Danny, we mustn't disturb the 'eadmaster: 'e's a busy man; 'e told me not to; 'e knows I've got to keep the intergritty of me security!'

Danny smelled a big rat: Mundungus was flustered and had turned down a thousand pounds!

'Mrs Figg,' he said, 'please do the honours.'

'No, Figgy!' squawked Mundungus, 'The Enemy might be listening in!'

Danny shouted: 'MRS FIGG! SEND FOR DUMBLEDORE NOW!'

She squeezed her medallion.

— CHAPTER SEVENTEEN —_**Dumbledore Takes Charge**_

After all the loud words, the silence was shocking. Mundungus had his head in his hands. Danny heard, for the first time, the ticking of a clock on the mantel.

They waited for thirty seconds that seemed an age. Then there was a shuffling sound from the bathroom, which was right at the back of the house. Slow footsteps advanced through the kitchen.

The door opened and an imposing, weirdly-dressed man entered.

It was Dumbledore!

'Good Lord!' said Piers.

'I was gonna deliver 'er!' said Mundungus. 'Honest! I'd've 'ad 'er there nine o'clock on the dot!'

'Arabella!' said Dumbledore, 'I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you!'

'What do you mean?' said Mrs Figg, 'You knew I was with Dung and you've been seeing Dung every day!'

Dumbledore shook his head and light dawned on Mrs Figg: 'MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER YOU RAT! YOU KIDNAPPED ME! AND WHO'S FEEDING MY CATS?'

'No, Arabella! It was for your own safety! I'd've got you there tomorrow!'

'I think he would, Arabella,' said Dumbledore, 'and claimed quite a few Galleons in expenses for rescuing you from your kidnappers—having already been paid by the Ministry to keep you away from the hearing.'

'Statute of Secrecy, Professor!' said Danny.

'Ah!' said Dumbledore and smiled at Piers.

'Feeling a bit sleepy.' said Piers and lost consciousness with his head resting on the arm of the sofa.

'A Muggle, Daniel. Is he a friend?'

'Piers Polkiss. Neighbour of Harry's. I met him when I went to visit Harry. He was abducted by a Muggle gang mistaking him for me. And don't be too hard on Mr Fletcher: he probably saved our lives. And the neighbours are feeding your cats, Mrs Figg.'

Mrs Figg had been struggling for words, but now she found them: 'Hard on Mister ... Mister! Mundungus Fletcher you are the most untrustworthy wizard there's ever been! You are the complete rat! How could I have trusted you? It was you that caused this ruddy hearing in the first place. You didn't care! You let Harry—he could have had the Dementor's kiss.'

'I think we might have the sixth member of the party in.' said Dumbledore, 'Tonks!'

Again, footsteps sounded from the bathroom. There was the sound of a breaking plate from the kitchen and in walked ... _Mrs_ _Figg_!

Danny clapped his hands and said: 'That's brilliant! It's too soon for Polyjuice. You must be Nymphadora Tonks. I'd heard that you were a Metamorphmagus, but no-one, no-one in the history of magic has achieved that!'

Tonks laughed. It was odd: a replication of Mrs Figg's laugh which was even eerier than the replication of her body.

'It's not just me. When Mrs Figg—hello Figgy! —went missing we needed a sub. But the sub had to be able to fool dozens of skilled witches and wizards. Polyjuice would take too long and be detected anyway, but Albus came up with the idea of using my powers combined with a short-form Polyjuice that Albus and Severus then cooked up. I've had a day's practice, and all for nothing. I almost said worse luck, but I'm so glad you're safe Figgy!'

'I suppose you got the hair from my home.' said the real Mrs Figg. 'You're lucky not to be a cat, dear.'

'We were aware of the danger!' said Dumbledore. Now may I suggest we make ourselves comfortable and review the situation?'

He conjured up a third armchair for himself. Tonks and Danny settled on the sofa with Piers between them so his head could flop either way as he turned in his sleep.

Dumbledore looked at the wine bottles. 'A bottle each? Something less strong, then.'

He conjured up five full glasses, saying: 'Old mead! Now Mundungus first: tell us all about it.'

'Not much to tell.' said Mundungus. 'I was approached by Sammy the Syrup. 'e said some woman in the Ministry was offering me two 'undred Galleons to make sure Figgy missed the 'earing. I said OK if I 'ad it up front—you wouldn't believe what these sods can do to an invoice. They divvied up inside ten mins.

'I thought wot a larf! She'll be under protection, but I went out to the sticks to check. And there she was, as helpless as one of 'er kittens. I thought wot an oversight! Dumbledore and the others missed a trick there, an' I thought, well I can protect 'er as well as anyone, so I'll put the oversight right an' the Ministry can whistle for their readies back, and I'll get me some new readies.'

'It _was_ an oversight.' said Dumbledore, 'One for which I have continually reproached myself.'

'Then obviously he conned me proper.' said Mrs Figg and I've been here a week. He may be a rat, but we've had our laughs haven't we? To be honest, it's been a nice little break.'

'I do wish you'd told us though, Mundungus. It would have saved a lot of effort.' said the Professor.

'I know that now. But it cuts both ways: if I'd known you was that worried, I'd have owned up right away—this bloody _need-to-know_ is killing off business opportunities. But bottom line was I knew she was safe and I'd get 'er to the Ministry on time.'

'Safe indeed! I really must congratulate you, Mundungus, on a really safe house. If it hadn't been for Arabella's neck-charm, I would have been hard-put to identify it.'

Danny interrupted: 'Mr Fletcher, have you got a Muggle phone? Can I call my mum, please?'

'Yeah. Office at the front. Utterly safe, but I still have to pay the bills, so make it quick.'

The Office consisted of an antique desk and chair, dwarfed by stack after stack of those cardboard boxes which were so integral to Mundungus' business.

Danny used the phone on the desk to call the Dorchester. He got through to his mother.

'Hi, Mum! You'll never guess where I am.'

'You're a bit late, that's where you are! And you haven't got your wand or cloak!'

'I'm at Mundungus Fletcher's Muggle Den!'

'Dung! I thought he was still away?'

'No, he's out, and guess who else is here.'

'Surprise me.'

'Piers is here! And Dumbledore! And Harry's safe!'

'Brilliant news! What happened?'

'Long story, Mum! I'm gonna lie low here for the night and Dumbledore'll sort it out tomorrow.'

'Wait a minute! You spending the night at Dung's? It's one thing doing business with crooks, and another thing socialising!'

'There is a reason, Mum: the kidnappers are after me in case I spill the beans. I can't go to the police because that nice young DC Leal is in with the kidnappers. So they're following you and watching the hotel.'

'What have you been up to? I hope you've been careful! I'll go to work tomorrow with two extra bodyguards: they can dish out any works that need doing and I'll look after the Obliviation and Confunding.'

'I don't think it'll be necessary, but _Constant Vigilance! _Now I've gotta go. I've had an idea: me and Piers could put up at the Creeveys.'

'Much better idea!'

'Night, Mum.'

'Night, Daniel. Respects to Dumbledore!'

In the back room, there was an uproar of laughter. Tonks was threatening to go to Little Whinging in character and everyone was speculating on the antics that she might get up to.

Professor Dumbledore turned to Danny: 'Now, Daniel, tell us what's been happening to you.

'Respects from Mum, and what happened was ...'

Danny gave a competent _résumé_, then: 'Professor! I didn't want to go back to the wizard world, because Scumbag—sorry Voldemort—is about, and my dad tells everybody he's neutral, but if Death Eaters kidnapped me they'd have him under their thumb.'

Dumbledore thought for a moment and said: 'Voldemort _has_ used Muggles as agents in the past, but I think he's too stupid too think of Economics as a means of warfare. My guess is that all he can think of is Harry Potter, and Harry is safe at present and will be safe at Hogwarts.

'So I think it's a straightforward Muggle crime to make money. You did well to be cautious and chose well in Mundungus, though I'm surprised you didn't come to me.'

'You were missing too. Mum sent you an owl Monday evening.'

'Saying what?'

'Just that we were worried about Harry.'

'Ah!' said Dumbledore, 'My owls are being diverted to Hogwarts to be prioritised. (_told you so!_ said Mrs Figg.) Professors McGonagall and Flitwick knew Harry was safe and would have left it for me to answer later.

'For safety, though, I think we should keep you and Piers away from both worlds for another night. Tomorrow, after Harry's hearing, we can give the Muggle criminals what for and reassure ourselves that Voldemort—sorry Scumbag—is not involved.'

'Professor, we don't want to lumber Mr Fletcher more than we need to, so I thought we could stay at the Creeveys.'

'Mmm. A Muggle household far away from London, and full of wizards. Ideal, if it were not for the younger members of the household—four as well as Colin and Dennis as I recall.'

'They're always going away on sleepovers. The Creeveys have lots of Muggle friends, and their wizarding friends are really understanding'

'Good! I'll go and sound them out. Nymphadora, my dear, it seems you are not needed, but belt and braces as the Muggles say. Please spend the night at HQ and take another twenty minims at bedtime. Explain to the proprietor that I won't be returning with Arthur and Harry after the hearing.'

He rose, turned and was gone.

Tonks rose too: 'See yer, Dung! See yer, Danny! Nice to meet yer! See yer, Figgy!'

'See yer, Figgy!' said Mrs Figg, and there was a stereo cackle that suddenly turned to mono.

'Good!' said Mundungus, 'I reckon it's a case of all's well that ends well!'

'Mundungus Fletcher!' said Mrs Figg, 'With you it's always a case of _As You Like It_!'

'Let's hope that Harry finds it _Much Ado About Nothing_ tomorrow!' said Danny.

'How did a wizard learn Shakespeare?' asked Mrs Figg.

'Language education: did some of the plays in parallel English and Russian.'

'Did you like it?'

'Yeah. Really good. And funny: specially where he garbles the witches' spells!'

'I wouldn't really know, dear.'

'I guess your a squib?'

Mundungus intervened: 'And the best of all squibs!'

Mrs Figg laughed and turned back to Danny: 'You don't know him as I do, Danny! Buttering me up means he's going to charge me for board and lodging! —'

'—Never!' said Mundungus. 'I'll submit my expenses to Dumbledore—'

'—_As well as_ submitting them to me!' concluded Mrs Figg.

Danny laughed and said: 'Mr Fletcher! You claim one Knut in expenses and I won't talk to Dad! You've done an excellent job, and there's no need to spoil it!'

'OK! OK!' laughed Mundungus, 'I was just practising. Use it or lose it!'

They were still laughing when Professor Dumbledore apparated.

'All arranged!' he smiled, 'They're waiting for us!'

— CHAPTER EIGHTEEN —_**The Creeveys at Home**_

Dumbledore said to Danny: 'I know you're a good apparater, Daniel, and I know you've got limited dispensations, but we can't risk the trace. So you and Piers, who I am sorry not to have got to know, will come with me. First, I think confunding up to the present.'

'No!' said Danny, 'Sorry, please wait, Professor. Me and Piers only met on Monday, but we've been through a lot—good and bad—and I want someone to share memories with.'

'A fair request, Daniel. What has he seen and heard?'

'He's seen the Invisibility Cloak and me sending an owl, but I told him that these were CIA developments that I got through my dad's company and it was very secret.'

'Good!'

'He's heard me calling you name, you mentioning Galleons and of course he's seen you. Anything else?'

Mundungus and Mrs Figg shook their heads.

Dumbledore twitched his wand.

He will awaken in the Creevey's kitchen. How did he get there?'

'We knew the stations were being watched, so Mr Fletcher drove us to Watford station. We caught the Birmingham train and walked half a mile to a tower block. We pressed an entryphone and Mrs Creevey let us in. We went up in the lift and Mrs Creevey was waiting at an open door and we went into the kitchen.'

'Good!' Dumbledore did some fancy wandwork.

'Now we'll go. Arabella, I'll call for you here and apparate you to the Ministry at eight-thirty.'

Dumbledore took the sleeping Piers in his arms. Then put him down, saying: 'Albus, you are an old fool!'

He turned to Mrs Figg: 'Arabella, make that five-thirty.'

'Five-thirty!' said Mrs Figg, 'The hearing's at nine o'clock!'

'They may try and start it early—an obvious stratagem—and Harry would be found guilty _in absentia_. If I am present, I can challenge the change of time if necessary.'

'One last thing, Professor, please.' said Danny, 'Mr Fletcher, a change of clothes please.'

'These are brand new!'

'But put on over ... dirty ones.'

Mundungus led Danny into the Office and they rummaged through the boxes, as Mundungus totted up the costs.

Eventually Danny was satisfied and they bagged the clothes and went to the back room with Mundungus announcing: 'Three 'undred quid there.'

'Thanks, Mr Fletcher, you've saved Dad seven hundred quid!'

'No Danny, you can 'ave the cloves!'

'Five-thirty, Arabella!' said Dumbledore, gathering up Piers again, thrusting the bag inside his cloak and making sure that Danny had a tight grip on his arm.

'Goodbye to you both!'

'Goodbye!' from Danny and, after the usual inside-out feeling, they were standing in a modern, but pleasant kitchen.

Mrs Creevey said: 'Quiet as ever, Professor! And Daniel!' She kissed him. 'You're safe here, you and your friend.'

Dumbledore draped Piers onto a chair and produced the bag: 'Thank y—'

He was interrupted by an explosion. The Creevey boys were in the room calling out: _Danny! Danny! Danny! Danny!_ They both went to hug Danny, then their arms clashed and they found it more convenient to hold hands and dance round him.

'Boys! QUIET!' said Mrs Creevey. 'Now first of all, where's your manners?'

'Sorry Mum! Good evening, Professor Dumbledore.'

'Sorry Mum! Good evening, Professor Dumbledore.'

'And secondly, calm yourselves. If you go through your life getting this excited about little things, you'll end up turning everyone into frogs!'

'But it's not a little thing is it Dennis?'

'No! We haven't seen Danny for twenty-seven hours.'

'And forty-five minutes.'

'Is this your friend, Danny?'

'No, it's _More Fairness, Pops_, Den.' said Colin.

'He looks like a rat! Eek ... Eek ...Eek!' said Dennis.

'Did they cut off his whiskers and send them to his Parents?' asked Colin

'BOYS! You were listening at the door!'

'Of course they were, Mrs Creevey!' said Dumbledore, 'As any red-blooded wizard would!'

'Specially if the Headmaster visited!' said Colin.

'I like his hair.' said Dennis, 'It's almost white!'

'BOYS! Go at once and wait in your room! Come out only if you want to lose privs for a week!'

'And this is Piers Polkiss. He is _not_ Professor Snape.' said Dumbledore, mysteriously.

When the boys had scampered off, Dumbledore said: 'Thank you, Mrs Creevey, for going out to buy this change of clothes for Piers and Daniel. I will return tomorrow morning, all being well.'

'Professor,' said Danny, 'Should we call Mr and Mrs Polkiss to let them know he's safe?'

'Definitely not!' said Dumbledore 'There's little risk, but it's not worth it just to save them another few hours of worry. Now Daniel, would you sit down at the table next to Piers?'

'Are you ready?'

Almost simultaneously, Dumbledore vanished, Piers raised his head and Mrs Creevey said: 'Are you hungry, boys?'

'No thank you, Mrs Creevey' said Piers, 'We had a huge boots—I mean Chinese meal. Didn't we Danny.'

'Yes. I think it would be nice to start with a shower, Mrs Creevey.'

'Alright dear! Take your change of clothes. Now, who's first? Or you could go in together—there's plenty of room.'

'That'll be quicker!' said Danny.

Mrs Creevey led them down a long passage and one minute later, they were soaping themselves.

'It's a big place for a council flat, isn't it Danny?'

'Yeah, they've got six kids—four of them are away, though.'

'What are the other two like? Boys or girls?'

'Two boys—twelve and fourteen.'

'How do you know them?'

'Same school.'

'What's Birmingham like?'

'Brilliant, but we might not see much of it.'

'Why?'

'Well, Mr Fletcher looks pretty small-time, but he's got good contacts—good enough to seriously bother Russian gangs and crooked policemen.'

'Danny, did you notice Mr Fletcher's trousers?'

'The bump? Can't miss it, can you?'

'Do you think it's ... you know?'

'Dunnow! Maybe it's some sort of incontinence thing. It's definitely worth investigating.'

Piers had got a serious erection and he reached out and cradled Danny's tackle.

'No!' said Danny, 'Later!'

'I'll just have a quick wank, then.'

'No! Save it! Trust me!'

'With these boys? What're they like?'

'They're not he-men, but you'll enjoy meeting them.'

They left the old clothes in the bag and went back to the kitchen where Mrs Creevey beamed at them: 'Kettle's on. Daniel would you mind fetching the boys?'

Danny obliged, going to the end room and poking his head round the door: 'You're allowed out, naughty boys!'

'What you doing Danny? You taught us the rules!' said Colin.

'Sorry, boys! Long day!'

He stepped into the room and intoned:

_A greeting should be never quick,_

_But first remember to be SICK._

_Security: vent, window, door_

_Inspection: furniture and floor_

_Cuddle: with your hands far-flung_

_Kiss: and don't forget the tongue_

Danny acted out this poem ending with a ten-second snog with Colin, followed by ten seconds with Dennis, while Colin claimed: 'That greeting _was_ quick!'

The three boys went into the kitchen, where Danny did the introductions:

'Piers Polkiss—Colin Creevey—Dennis Creevey.'

'Pleased to meet you, Dennis!' said Colin.

'Pleased to meet you, Colin!' said Dennis.

The brothers shook hands, whereupon Danny shook hands with Piers:

'Pleased to meet you, Piers!' said Danny.

'Pleased to meet you, Danny!' said Piers.

'Tea, coffee, cocoa?' asked Mrs Creevey, then, while she busied herself with spoons and mugs, there was a moment's silence.

When teen males meet, there is a lot of evaluation: race, clothes, facial expression, prettiness, hair, bump, posture. There may be an urge to befriend, or to attack, or for some indeterminate involvement. If they get closer, there may be some kind of physical contact, some communication via smell and, in the case of wizards, via psychic magic.

Eyes will scan the strangers, including a check on what the strangers' eyes are scanning. Eyes will check friends, giving or receiving cues for tribal behaviour. Eyes will meet, forcing a response which as like as not will be an immediate glancing away.

In Mrs Creevey's kitchen, things were simpler: three pairs of eyes watched Piers go pink as he stared open-mouthed at Colin. It was obvious that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

'Eek ... Eek ...Eek!' said Dennis.

'DENNIS!' said Mrs Creevey.

'It's alright, Mum! It's alright, Piers!' said Colin, 'Danny thinks you look like a rat, but it's a lovely white rat!'. He leaned forward and stroked Piers' hair. Danny followed suit, going: 'Eek ... Eek ...Eek!'

'DENNIS! COLIN!' said Mrs Creevey, 'We don't insult our guests in this house!'

'It's OK, Mrs Creevey.' said Piers, 'I used to be called _Ratty_ before some of my friends stopped it. But I didn't mind then and I don't mind now!'

'Well I mind!' said Danny. 'You're naughty boys and must stand in the corner!'

The Creevey boys obeyed and Danny said: 'Oh! Two won't fit, so swap places with Piers!'

Piers was standing with his face to the corner when Mr Creevey came in, saying: 'Hello Danny! Hello Danny's Friend!'

'Our Friend, too!' from the Creeveys.

'Horse OK, Mr Creevey?' asked Danny.

'Plugged in and ready for the three-thirty! I'm turning in, love.'

'Night-night. Sleep well!'

'Night All!'

Mr Creevey left and Danny said: 'Facing the wall Piers!'

Mrs Creevey transferred four mugs to the table and opened the oven door. She took out a tray.

'Mince Pies, boys!'

'In August, because Danny liked them at Christmas!' said Colin.

'Mrs Creevey, you didn't need to and we—' said Danny.

'—Had a Chinky. I know, but there's always room for a mince pie! And what are you doing to that poor boy? Come and sit down love!'

The lads sipped and munched while Mrs Creevey made herself comfortable in the living room. Piers had to relate his adventures and was much interrupted with _coos_, b_limeys_, _cors_ and _wows_.

'I'd've pooped my pants!' said Colin.

'I did!' said Danny 'That's why we needed new clothes!'

'WE!' said Colin, 'That's a real giveaway!'

The lads roared with laughter and Piers went a bright pink.

'Don't be embarrassed, Piers! Danny told us about the three lost virginities!'

'Four now!' said Danny.

'Poor old Harry—er.'

'It's alright, Col, Piers knows we all go to St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys with Harry. And he knows I was saving it for Harry. And he knows why I couldn't resist Piers. And he probably knows why he was sent to the corner.'

'He does now!' laughed Piers.

'I told you, didn't I?' said Danny.

'Terrific view, wasn't it Dennis?' said Colin.

'Yeah! But Colin, I bet it's only Number Two!?'

'There's only one Number One! Piers, how well do you know, Harry?'

'Just neighbours, really.'

'So you've never seen him in the nude?'

'No.'

'I bet you'd like to!'

'To be honest, a Danny in the hand is worth more than a Harry being held in what sounds like protective custody!'

'What about a Colin in the hand? And a Dennis?' smiled Colin.

'I c-can't believe this. Sorry. I've been from Hell to Heaven to Hell to Heaven in three days, and now someone like you ...'

'And me!' said Dennis, standing up as though speaking to a large audience.

'And me!' said Colin, in case Piers had forgotten his earlier offer.

They looked at Danny. He was asleep.

Colin nudged him.

'Sorry, It's been a long day!'

'Funny, I feel really fresh!' said Piers.

'You can watch us go to sleep, Piers.' said Colin, 'But we'll have a little fun first.'

'How about Twister?' said Danny.

Colin asked: 'Can we use—'

'—the voice-activated electromonic dice?' said Danny, 'Yeah. It's another bit of technology from to the CIA, Piers.'

They went to say goodnight to Mrs Creevey.

'Danny can have Dennis's bed and you two can top-and-tail in Colin's. Piers has got Geoffrey's room.'

'Piers'll be OK in ours, Mum.' said Colin.

'If he's happy.'

'We'll manage, 'night Mum!'

The boys trooped down the passage and after needful and achievable pissing and toothbrushing, were soon inside the bedroom with the door bolted.

Dennis invoked SICK and Danny vied with the brothers to snog Piers.

'Clothes off! Dice out! Twisting time is Here!' yelled a happy Dennis.

— CHAPTER NINETEEN —_**Twister**_

'I can't do that! How can I be expected to touch my Mouth to Danny's when I'm already Mouthing his Penis?' mumbled Piers, 'Unless Danny's a contortionist!'

'Just call _Engaged_ and throw again.' said Danny, whose mouth was free.

It was the quietest game of Twister ever as, Colin and Dennis had thrown Mouth-to-Mouth in the third round.

'Engaged! Dice! Two!' said Piers.

Two six-inch furry dice jumped in the air and fell down.

'Two!' said Danny who, perforce, was currently MC, 'My Ballsack! They've got in for me!' Danny's Penis was Connected to Dennis's Bumhole as well as Piers' mouth.

'Dice! Two!'

'Nine! Piers' Mouth! Open your mouth a little and turn your head sideways and you can do it. Don't Nudge Dennis off though.!'

Piers complied, and mumbled: 'Durnis's chicks loik wurlwurt!'

'Round 10!' said Danny.

'Dice! One! Five! Dice! One! Two! Piers again!

'Dice! One! Two! ... Five! ... Three! Colin!

'Dice! Two!

'Four! Piers' Penis

'Dice! Two!

'Seven! Colin's Penis!'

There was some chuckling. Colin already had a Toe Connected to Piers' Bumhole and it would take a real twist to touch Penises without nudging away Dennis's Hand which was sharing Piers' Bumhole. And Colin had his other Toe in Danny's Armpit, where it nestled next to Piers' Toe.

Brilliantly, Colin and Piers managed the Connection.

'Connected!' shouted Piers. 'Oh, Shit!'

He had opened his mouth, forgetting that it had to keep Contact with Danny's Penis and Ballsack.

'A beginner's error.' said Danny, 'Relaxation! Hard luck, Dennis!'

The lads now had to try and achieve orgasm while maintaining their current positions. Dennis, with one hand on Piers' Bumhole, the other on his brother's and his Penis unConnected. was not well-placed.

Danny, though, with his genitals nudging Piers' mouth and Dennis's Bumhole, and with Piers and Colin moaning appreciatively as they rubbed penises, came like a rocket.

It was even better than his come with Joe the waiter (Was that really only this morning?) and as he relaxed, he didn't bother reminding the Creeveys, who were slurping noisily, that this was a no-Insertion game.

Then Piers shouted: 'He's come! Real cum! Danny's come! I can smell it!'

Instantly the group untwisted and three pairs of eyes peered at Piers' upper lip, where there was an undeniable smudge of milky fluid.

'Dennis leaned down and sniffed hard: 'Wow! That's the real thing! Next one up my bum please, Danny!'

Danny said: 'No, sorry. I've let Harry down four times so I'm gonna try and save my first real cum-in-bum for him!'

Colin bent and inhaled deeply. Coo, Danny! We're gonna have red-hot times in Gryffindor this year!'

'And the other houses!' said Danny, 'I've got big plans for St Brutus's!'

'Meanwhile, Danny, I'm gonna be the first to mix mine with yours!'

He placed his willy above Piers' upper lip and wanked a couple of strokes. He squeaked and a couple of tiny Colin-blobs spat out. He swirled them round with his finger and said: 'That's me and you united in a special way, my little Dannikins!'

'Using me as a palate!' laughed Piers.

Dennis bent for another sniff, then shouted: 'I'm gonna lose another vaginity too!'

He lowered his head, took all of Piers' willy in his mouth and started sucking.

Piers had been rather forgotten amidst the excitement and the other two boys hastened to make up for it: Colin snogged him hard, while Danny sucked each of Piers' nipples in turn, while wanking Dennis.

Piers writhed about and pushed hard into Dennis's mouth. He had one hand fondling Colin's head, and the other gripping Danny's bum. His grip tightened and Danny bit a little harder into a nipple as Piers came.

Danny could sense that Dennis was excited by the spurt in his mouth. His body stiffened and, under Danny's skilled and loving hands, he had his own little dry orgasm.

'Well, Dennis? Was it _ugh_? Was it _horrible_?' asked Danny.

'It was nice. I only coughed a little. And it was like you said: I felt we were together, but not just Piers: I felt the _four_ of us were together. But it could have been Harry! Do you think this year I could have Harry's cum dribbling down my throat and I could be feeling his bottom. Or maybe not if Colin were _doing_ him. I do hope Colin gets to do him, Don't you, my little Dannikins?'

'I'm sure it'll sort itself out. Anyway, it's gonna be a fun year! And now I'm collapsing. I _must_ get to sleep.'

The Creeveys had nice, wide beds. They had pushed the two mattresses together on the floor for Twister and decided to leave them there and sleep across the crack so no-one could fall down it.

As guests. Danny and Piers were made to take the inside positions. This proved a bit problematic: as Danny lay drifting into sleep, he heard the Creeveys discussing an important issue:

'It's what _you_ want, Col.'

'I don't mind; it's what _you_ want, Den. You're the one doing me a favour.'

'And you're doing me a favour.'

'But not as big a favour cos you haven't got hair yet.'

'I still enjoy it.'

'But I enjoy it more, Den, cos I've got hair and I can come.'

'Then your come is more important and we should work as a team to make it the best.'

'But, cos you get less pleasure, we should work as a team because if you lose _anything_, you might lose _everything_!'

Danny intervened: 'Why not toss a coin each time?'

'Daniel, you're brilliant!' Dennis kissed him.

'Daniel, you're brilliant! Pass it on, Piers!' Colin kissed Piers.

Piers passed it on, but Danny was fast asleep.

Danny woke up quite a few times during the night. When four boys who are comfortable with each other's bodies are sharing a bed, one may roll over in his sleep and wake a second, who may wake the third, etc.

And boys may clutch each other in their sleep—either through atavistic fear of the dark, or through sheer happiness as their unconscious mind knows that they are with friends.

Each time Danny woke up, the boys were in a different configuration. Heads were stuck in polite bits and not-so-polite bits. Mouths drooled. Hands were held. Dream-words were muttered.

At one time in the middle of the night, Dennis was sucking Danny's thumb. Danny's nose was pushing between Piers' bumcheeks and he was thinking about the Chinky at Mundungus' place. It was only next morning that he decided that Piers had farted a Chinky smell and, in his sleep, Danny had felt peckish.

The morning sun started lighting the curtains at six o'clock, and by seven was shining brightly. It wasn't until eight, though, that bodies started stirring and chattering began.

Danny was aware that he was lying face-down and that people were talking about him:

'I can't think of a better way to wake up, Den!'—Colin.

'See if you can do it _without_ waking him up!'—Piers.

'Too late! I'm awake!' said Danny, 'Dennis, see if you can do it without sending me back to sleep!'

A small body flopped on the bed and a small pair of hands parted his cheeks. A small hard object pushed its way into his hole and, suddenly, Dennis had collapsed on top of him and was bouncing as only a Creevey could bounce.

Dennis gave him a short, sharp seeing-to. As soon as he had stopped, Colin barged Dennis off and slipped his little willy up.

Somehow, Dennis squeezed his head under Danny's loins and wrapped his mouth around Danny's willy. Then things happened very quickly: Colin came with a jerky twitch and was replaced by Piers who _rammed_ into Danny exciting him so that he came at once—another fabulous come.

Piers followed suit and his high-speed quiver aroused admiration from Colin: 'Piers, your bum looked gorgeous when it was bobbing up and down!'

'I told you Piers!' said Danny, 'Your bum is the Piers Polkiss Penis-Puller! You've got a brilliantly happy life ahead of you.'

Dennis had extricated himself and proclaimed: 'I got a taste of Danny's cum! And his willy was all sticky like yours, Col! And his balls have got a new smell! And I bummed him before! Col, do you want to kiss me and see if you can taste Danny's cum?'

The brothers snogged and Colin confirmed that Danny's come tasted nice but he was going to try it first-hand as soon as possible.

'And Harry's, Col!' said Dennis.

'Does Harry have a sex-life?' asked Piers?

'We don't know.' said Colin.

'We know he shared a bed with Neville in first-year.' said Dennis.

'But that was supposed to be to stop Neville wetting his bed.'

'He certainly likes boys' smells,' said Danny, 'He was having a good sniff at one of the Weasley's armpits when they were celebrating after a game. And I saw him sniffing one of the seventh-year's feet when they had their shoes off drying themselves in front of the fire.'

'And he slinks off with two other boys, Seamus and Dean.' said Dennis.

'But everyone knows they're smokers.' said his brother.

'And he took a girl to the Yule Ball—yuk!'

The other three echoed Dennis's _yuk_.

'But they say that he ditched her and went off with Ron Weasley.' said Colin.

'Nothing in that.' said Danny, 'They're just mates. I think that dorm's bent: I've asked all five of them if they want me to stroke them off and they've all refused.'

'They'll regret it when they're old!' said Colin. 'So with Seamus on Tuesday, was that just the once?'

'We'll have to see!' smiled Danny.

— CHAPTER TWENTY —_**Canal Boys and Happy Boys**_

After breakfast, Mrs Creevey told the lads: 'I've had a letter from a friend.'

'Isn't it private, Mrs Creevey?' asked Danny.

'No.'

She showed the letter to Piers: 'Can you read the signature, Piers?'

'Yeah, _Mundungus Fletcher_—we met him yesterday.'

She showed it to the other lads who read: _Albus Dumbledore_.

'I'll read it out:

_Harry was found Not Guilty at the hearing._ [Cheers from the listeners]

_I hope to have satisfactorily arranged matters shortly and will arrive at 11 o'clock to escort Piers and Daniel to London._

The four lads obtained Mrs Creevey's permission to get some fresh air and have an hour's ramble about the city.

'Let's go along the canal!' said Dennis.

'Good idea, Den!' said his brother.

They walked a quarter of a mile and descended to the canal towpath. There was plenty to look at: long boats passing through the locks; derelict and romantic-looking factories; colossal modern buildings; ducks still being a little parental to their nearly-grown offspring.

The busy city hummed with activity, but the roar was distant and the canal peaceful. The towpath was usually about eight yards wide, but sometimes narrowed to single-file as Piers ducked his head to pass through a tunnel under the road. At other places the towpath was as wide as fifteen yards and the rear was covered by a tangle of bushes and small trees.

It was at one of these places that they stopped for a pee. Crouching down, they found a spot that had room for four and was reasonably well-concealed from the towpath and from the car park above them.

'Coo!' said Dennis, 'Just think what these willies have been doing recently!'

'And the best is yet to come for all of us!' said Danny.

'Danny, I didn't notice: yours is getting quite big.' said Colin.

'I'm getting the horn.'

'No. Before. Do you think you'll get a _whopper_?'

'Don't know, don't care! Variety is the spice of Sex!'

'We had four in a bed last night!' said Dennis.

'When do you think we'll do it again, Danny?' asked Colin.

'Depends. We may be going on holiday.'

The three wizards were silent, knowing that Piers could not accompany them to wizard places.

They finished peeing and four stiffening willies were tucked into trackie bottoms. They were about to set of on the return leg when the observant Danny called: 'Look at that dead bush. It doesn't look right.'

They approached the dead bush. It was set hard against the brick wall and appeared to be a branch from a bushy tree. Danny pulled at it and it came away easily reveling a tunnel-like gap in the greenery.

They looked down the gap. There was a small tent.

Danny said: 'I'm going to have a look!'

'Let me go, Danny! I'm better kitted!' said Colin—the boys always carried their wands, just in case.

'No, it'll be OK!'

Danny crawled to the tent. He pulled up the zip front and looked in. There were two young men lying next to each other in tight sleeping bags. They looked rough. They smelled rough. They were both awake.

One of the men spoke: 'Piss off!'

Danny ignored the suggestion and asked: 'Do you live here. Have you run away?'

'Yeh'man. Got'ny burn? Got'ny weed?'

'No, but here's twenty quid for a good meal.'

'Thanks man! What's your name?'

'Danny.'

'I'm Steve this is Tom.'

Danny called: 'Colin!' and, as Colin peeped his head through the small flap, said: 'This is my friend Colin. This is Steve. This is Tom. We've all gotta go now but perhaps we can help you a bit in the future. See yer!'

'See yer. Thanks.' came the mumble.

As they walked back to Cleveland Tower, they discussed Steve and Tom. Steve was about twenty and Tom maybe a year or two younger.

'What can have made two nice-looking boys like that live rough?' asked Colin.

'It's usually these drugs they get addicted to.' said Danny, 'And if you give them money, they just increase their dose, but maybe you can help them—maybe _we_ can if I'm around. Just have sensible talks with them. treat them as human.'

'Drugs make people inhuman, they say.' said Dennis.

'Yeah, maybe they're too far gone. But maybe they'd take a chance if it was offered.'

'But listen Creeveys! Take care!' Danny mused for a while, then said: 'Right! here's Danny's rules:

_1. We only meet then in daylight._

_2. Only in an open area with people about_

_3. Always more than one of us_

_4. If we're going to give them anything, make it food, not cash._

_5. They're Muggles, so Security!_

_6 Always be prepared. [The Creeveys knew he meant wands.]_

_And I bet you'd never here these words from my lips:_

_7. NO SEX! They're probably full of horrible diseases._

'Danny, we've lived in the city all our lives!' said Colin 'and we've survived so far!'

'Well, _Constant Vigilance_ always!'

They had come to the tower block.

Piers looked up: 'I don't see how your flat fits in.'

'They knock two into one for larger families.' said Colin. 'There's four more of us away on hol or staying with friends.'

Piers still looked puzzled.

Inside the flat Mr Creevey was just finishing his breakfast.

'Alright boys?' said Mrs Creevey. 'Make yourself at home in the sitting room, and I'll bring you in a hot drink. Same as last night?'

They settled down in the sitting room.

'You sit in the comfy chair, Piers.' said Danny, 'You look a little tired.'

'Too much bed and not enough sleep!' giggled Dennis.

'Ten to eleven: Mr Fletcher'll be here soon.' said Piers.

'Let's teach Piers Morse Code.' said Colin, 'then next time we see him, we can have secret talks.'

They started on the alphabet but had only got as far as _C dash dot dash dot_ when Piers said: 'Can't concentrate ...' and fell asleep.

There were voices next door. They heard Mr Creevey's voice saying _Four years to the day almost!_

Then Professor Dumbledore came in followed by Mrs Creeevey who said: 'Right you boys, pop along into your bedroom while Professor Dumbledore talks to Danny.'

'The boys began pleading but Dumbledore's voice rose above them: 'I think Colin and Daniel will enjoy listening, Mrs Creevey.'

Mr Creevey joined the company and leant against a doorpost throughout Dumbledore's narration.

'Harry is safe and surrounded by friends in a secret location. The Ministry tried every trick they could, but Mrs Figg's evidence saved him.'

'What was he charged with, Professor?' asked Danny.

'I'd rather not go into that, Daniel. Suffice to say that the Ministry has it in for Harry: he upsets them. They think that by not believing Harry they can change the truth of Voldemort's return.

'Your Russian gang is much simpler than we feared, Daniel. I obtained all the details from the top. There are only seven in the gang: the man who calls himself Big Ivan and six men who are, in Muggle parlance, _Moscow-Trained Hoods_. The hoods' job is to collect money and to control people—to kill them if necessary.

'Once a Russian criminal is known to Big Ivan, he is lost. If he wants to do a crime, he must ask Big Ivan's permission. Whether it succeeds or not, he must pay Big Ivan twenty percent of the take. If he refuses or welshes, he is killed.

'Hundreds of honest Russians are forced to act as watchers, messengers and couriers. Refusal is death.

'The hoods know that they themselves are trapped, but an income of millions of pounds a year provides some compensation. But they know, like everyone else, that there are no second chances and only one penalty.

'So clever Big Ivan is invulnerable. He rules by word of mouth. His wealth is stored in precious metals in bank vaults around the world. There is no evidence, so he is safe from the Muggle police. There is no heir-apparent so he is protected from the criminals

'But there is one way to bring him down, a way used with skill by generations of Russians—'

'—Confession!' said Danny.

'Ahead of your teachers as usual, Daniel! Yes, all I had to do was find him and Confund him so that he told the truth at any future police interrogation.

'Through the simpleton Smerdy, I found Svetty and Rass and through them, Big Ivan himself.

'With Big Ivan charmed, I managed to find four of the six hoods, the other two being abroad. The four that I found will confess when arrested.

'Svetty and Rass are confunded to believe that Mundungus has captured the two of you and procured a promise of ten million pounds from Mr and Mrs Jorrocks and that he will deliver you back to the Tolkov house.

'They will shortly confer with Big Ivan and return to the house where Mundungus will deliver you.

'I then arranged the Muggle police. Most detectives in the London police are corrupt, but most will have nothing to do with Russians, who they know are relentless and unforgiving. In fact there are only three: your Mr Leal, Daniel, and two seniors. All three are now Confunded to confess.

'Finally I visited Mr Welch at Little Whinging and imposed a scheme on him. The London police's Bent Copper squad will arrest their three traitors at four o'clock this afternoon simultaneously with a raid on your former quarters by the Flying Squad, with Mr Welch in attendance.'

'Professor, Sir,' said Danny, 'you've done a lot this morning. You didn't use a ... a—'

'—Yes, Daniel?'

'A Time-Turner. Isn't that fearfully risky?'

'Not if used with extreme caution by a skilled wizard, Daniel. You need to understand precisely how much you can change without causing what the Muggles call a _Crowd Psychology_ or a _Butterfly Effect_. You need to use natural forces towards stability. The Muggles again have faint inklings about stability—they give it names like _Gaia Hypothesis_ or _Free Market_—but only trained wizards can really understand and balance the forces between stability and chaos.

'As it is, all we have to do is to return you to captivity and wait for the Muggles' four o'clock actions.

'An administrative note, Daniel: your borrowed tools have been returned to the shed, which I locked. Your picklocks are at the Dorchester, though Mundungus offered to hold them for you.'

Dumbledore turned to Piers: 'He will remember that Mundungus escorted you from here, via rail and tube, to his van. Any other memory problems?'

'He's puzzled that this flat is two ordinary flats knocked into one.' said Colin.

Dumbledore flicked his wand then, after prolonged _Goodbyes_, picked up Piers, held Danny firmly and turned.

— CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE—_**A Waste of a Whopper**_

They arrived on the pavement next to Mundungus' van. There must have been a Disillusionment Charm. The Muggle drivers and pedestrians took no notice of the weird-looking foursome who had foregathered.

''Ello, Professor! 'Ello, boys! It's all OK at this end.' Mundungus looked shabbier than ever.

'Well done Mundungus!' said Professor Dumbledore, 'Would you please take Piers and put him in the van while I have a word with Daniel?'

He crouched down and said: 'Daniel, Winter Term begins next Wednesday and I have two things to say to you. Firstly, I want you to promise me that you won't do anything to compromise your father's proclaimed neutrality.'

'What do you mean, sir?'

'The Ministry is against us. There may be difficulties at Hogwarts. If Stephen Jorrocks' son were found to be transgressing through youthful high spirits, that would mean nothing; but if he were found to be doing something that could be interpreted as anti-Ministry, then Voldemort might move against your father which must be avoided.'

'I understand, Professor. Can I take my Invisibility Cloak this year, please?'

'Alas, no, Daniel: I'm sure you intend only to use it for harmless fun, but situations might arise which would lead to temptation, and we cannot risk the Ministry targeting you. Also, Professor Flitwick tells me that your Disillusionment Charms are still rudimentary, so I would ask you to take care in that area.'

Danny was disappointed. He had been looking forward to hours spent under the Invisibilty Cloak in the dormitories, lavatories and showers. But he had been practising his Disillusionment Charms over the holidays and still had high hopes. Danny had the horn.

'I promise, Professor.' he said.

Now, my second point is for Mundungus' ears as well.

Dumbledore rose and they walked over to where Mundungus was leaning against the van bonnet.

'Mundungus and Daniel: I must talk to you both about dealings with Muggles. We don't like interfering in Muggle affairs, but in this case, where Muggle criminals have targeted a young wizard, we had no choice.

'Now, I think I've covered our tracks, but we can't request a team of Obliviators from the Ministry to come in and clear loose ends, so I must ask you to be very alert this afternoon and in the days to come.'

'Sure thing, Boss!'

'Yes, Professor!'

Now, Daniel, if you'd just get into the van ...'

Mundungus slammed the rear door. Almost instantaneously, Piers stirred and said: 'Danny, fancy a wank? I want to see you come.'

'Too late! I think we've arrived.'

The door opened and Mundungus spoke: ''Ere we are, lads! Just time for a pint, I think!'

They walked down the road and entered a pub situated at the corner of a main road and a street of Victorian terraced houses. They seemed to be in the Fulham area. Mundungus bought his beer and two orange juice and lemonades for the boys. They settled in the back corner of the saloon bar, which was busy with lunchtime trade.

It was a mixed crowd, and Danny was startled to see their acquaintances of three days earlier, Dot and Alice sitting within a crowd of assorted gender in the window area.. His _Constant Vigilance_ kicked in, but he immediately dismissed the notion that these two could be connected with the Russians, or the police, or Dumbledore, or the Ministry, or Hogwarts.

Wizards attract coincidences, and really it was not that much of a coincidence: Dumbledore would have selected a rendezvous just far enough away from the Tolkov house for safety and Fulham, a mile and a half West was ideal. And Fulham was on the number fourteen route.

Mundungus was speaking: 'I'd better run you through the plan again. I'll drop y'off on these Russians, and of course they think I've arranged ten million with your dad, Master Daniel. They'll treatyer like royalty! I wish I could see their faces when the police come knockin'!'

'Now, most important! You gotta tell the same story to the police. You was taken Piers, 'n' Daniel figures it was them two laundrymen 'an followed their van in a taxi and climbed in through the unlocked winder in the basement. Then yer tricked Smerdy an' exscaped, but bent copper Leal caught yer 'an yer bin there ever since.

''An if questions gets awkward, yer say you slept a lot 'an mebby yer was drugged.

''Nother pint for me. Anything boys?'

They shook their heads and while Mundungus was at the bar, Piers said: 'I'm still a bit fuzzy.'

'So am I. We'll let Mr Fletcher take us though it again.'

Mundungus came back with his drink, took a hefty swig and said: 'Need a Gypsy's.'

Danny's bladder was bursting and he said: 'Gypsy's Kiss, I bet. I need one too.'

It was a trough urinal and Mundungus had gone to the far end. Danny approached the near end, but suddenly realising that here was the chance of a good peep, swerved to stand next to Mundungus.

He had unzipped and started pissing by the time Mundungus had fumbled within his clothes and pulled out a _whopper_. It was true, then. That bulge was the real thing.

Danny stared openly, enjoying the spectacle.

'Bloody hell, Mr Fletcher! That belongs in the reptile house!'

'Not bad is it?'

'Can I touch it?'

'No fear! I don't go in for any of that!'

'Well wiggle it about and make it stiff.'

'Get lost! And yer pissin' on me shoes.'

'Sorry! I was just enjoying the spectacle. It's like being in the zoo.'

'You wanna see a real freak show, they say that that Darren in Knockturn Alley's the one.'

They finished their pees, Danny enjoying Mundungus' wiggling phase immensely.

Back in the bar, Piers rose and said: 'I need one too.'

'Go on Mr Fletcher!' said Danny, 'Have another pee and give Piers an eyeful too.'

'You tryin' to get me sent back inside?' laughed Mundungus.

'It would probably be a Muggle prison. They'd be queuing up for you!'

'The gals is queuing up for me already, thanks. I toldyer I've never gone short!'

Danny's spine suddenly chilled: he had put two and two together.

'Mr Fletcher! Mrs Figg said that you had laughs together and that she'd had a nice little break. Did that mean ...?'

'A gentleman never tells, Master Daniel.'

'Nor do you, I know! But you don't need to. There was that sort of link between you. How could you? She must be thirty years older than you!'

'Older's sometimes better, Master Daniel!' He started chanting:

_They don't yell,_

_They don't swell,_

_And they're grateful as hell!_

Danny capped Mundungus with:

_And they pay you well!_

'Master Daniel! That's a slur! Even _I_'d never charge a lady!'

'You'd set a good rate on Bed and Board, though!'

'It's gratis—you know that.'

'So she definitely got her money's worth! I bet she really _was_ grateful as hell!'

'Yeah, she's had some lean years. Min' you, before my time, but wen old Alf Figg was on nights, she did alright they say. There's still a rhyme the little witches use for skipping—might be about her:

_Hey Arabella_

_You lie down in the cellar_

_You go with any feller!_

_Hey Mrs Figg_

_You look like a pig_

_Going jig-a-jig-jig!_

Piers was sitting bemused through the tail-end of this.

Danny turned to him and said: 'See anyone we know in here, Piers?'

Piers looked around: 'No.'

'Window seat?'

'No. Oh, yes!' Piers had pinkened.

'I might have a chat. How much time have we got, Mr Fletcher?'

Mundungus looked at a thousand pounds-worth of wristwatch: 'Arf an hour.'

'I'm just gonna renew an acquaintanceship.' said Danny.

He walked over and sat down next to Dot.

'Hi Dot! Hi Alice!'

There were incredulous looks around the table as the two young men stuttered their _Hellos_.

'You weren't this shy on Monday!' said Danny.

'We were pissed.' said Dot.

'Ooh, we were not!' said Alice, 'We'd been to the opera—the divine Joe Green. We were floating on a cloud.'

'You were floating on the top deck of a number fourteen,' said Danny, 'presumably returning home to Fulham.'

'West Chelsea.' corrected a few voices.

'I'm Danny, and my friend, who you were so keen to meet on Monday and who you've ignored today, is Piers.'

'Peers! Is he into _water-sports_?' asked Alice.

'I don't know.' said Danny, 'I've never heard the term before, but I've guessed what it means.'

'Danny we didn't mean to offend you, but you're _jailbait_.' said Dot.

'Only if we're naughty,' smiled Danny, 'but they can't jail you just for being friends.'

Alice asked: 'Who's _your_ friend, Dear—the one with the big basket?'

'_Basket_! That's another new one that I've guessed! Anyway, he's one of the drivers at my dad's garage. He's giving us a lift.'

The four unknowns were starting to say hello. Danny stood up: he did not want to meet any _girls_.

'Have you got a telephone?' he asked, and Alice wrote a number on a beer mat.

Danny bent to take it and, exaggerating a little, said: 'Does _six_ bring out your hot flushes?'

'No, you're safe, Danny!' said Alice.

Danny told him: 'Driver—not available, but _six_.'

Then, bending down, he whispered in Alice's ear: '_Limp_!'

Alice screamed quietly.

'Funny lot for you to know.' said Mundungus.

'Met'em on the bus on Monday.'

'Sure they're safe?'

'Yes, _Professor_! You've arranged everything!'

Piers was blushing.

They rehearsed their whoppers for a few minutes. They were word-perfect.

Mundungus led them out the pub.

Dot stared at Piers. Alice stared at the _basket_. The other four stared at Danny.

— CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO—_**Bobbies Again**_

They had a fifteen-minute drive.

In the back of the van, Danny continued Piers' lessons in Morse code—this time with contact.

Mundungus let them out and rang the bell.

Svetty answered the door and greeted the boys: 'Welcome back! Only a short stay and you will be with your parents very soon.'

He shouted down the passage: 'Smerdy! Peetanyay!' and led them up the stairs.

'Here we are again!' said Danny, 'Wow!'

Their prison had been overhauled: two new mattresses, two new comfy chairs and a small table on which Smerdy placed a tray of posh-looking sandwiches and half a dozen assorted soft drinks.

'Please knock if you need anything else.' said Svetty as he locked the door.

The boys leapt at the food and chatted with full mouths.

'Piers, these Russians who were really nasty yesterday and polite today remind me of your hunk scenario.'

'No! No! Never! My hunk's a basically nice guy who gets a bit cross. He's not a crook at all, let alone a murderer.'

'Changing the subject, and I know they're the most unhunklike you could imagine, how did you like the Creeveys?'

'Like you, Danny: tremendous company and tremendous sex. I told you this hunk thing is just a fantasy.'

'You should get together with Alice—I suspect hunks are right up her street, or just right up her. You should have come and chatted.'

'I would've, only there were all these others—including the two girls.'

'They're quite good looking in the daylight, aren't they?'

'What the _girls_?'

'No! Dot and Alice!'

'Yeah, they're —sexy anyway, which reminds me ...'

He leaned over and felt Danny's willy.

'... Ooh, Danny, _please_ can I watch you coming?'

'Come to think of it _I_ want to watch me coming! First things first, though!' Danny pulled Piers into a clinch.

They snogged hard, with hands that were definitely _far-flung_. Their lips were crumby.

'Mutual nourishment!' mumbled Danny.

Piers took his hands off Danny's bum and pulled his own bottoms and undies down to his ankles. Danny had done similarly.

Piers knelt down and gave Danny's willy a quick, slurpy suck. Then he got to his feet and cupped a hand under the tip.

'Wank into this!'

Danny started wanking and watched his penis-tip avidly. He soon had that lovely feeling and a small blob of white, about the size of a pencil-rubber was washed into Piers' palm by a little gush of clear fluid.

Piers smelled it and Danny craned forward to smell it too.

'It smells like all the other boys, but some of them shoot it across the room.'

'That'll come soon!' said Piers. 'We can have competitions!'

Piers was dribbling pre-cum and hardly needed lubrication, but he smeared Danny's cum over his pointy glans and started to wank spiritedly.

Danny cupped a hand: 'Wank into this!'

Piers took longer than Danny and was a lot noisier. When he came, cupping Danny's balls in one hand while squeezing his own willy hard with the other, he was going _Oh! ... Oh! ... Oh!_ His body was swaying and Danny had to move his hand before catching, as they spurted for an inch, two little blobs about the same size as Danny's single blob.

Danny raised his hand to his nose. 'Smells the same.'

Piers had a sniff: 'Smells like teen spirit!' he said.

Danny wiped his hand clean on his bumhole, saying: 'It's got to get used to it!'

Then he looked at Piers' collapsing willy. 'It looks like a rat! Eek ... Eek ...Eek!'

They laughed happily, pulled up their clothes and had second goes at the food.

The afternoon drew on. Realising that Piers' handiwork on the shutters had not been reversed, they leant against the window sill, debating whether to ring Alice.

Then Piers suddenly grabbed Danny's arm: 'I forgot! You went for a pee with Mr Fletcher! You must have seen his thing!'

'Yeah! I forgot too! It's real! It's a whopper!'

'How big?'

'Diameter—it would just go up the inside of a kitchen towel. Length—a bit more than five inches.'

'Totally limp?'

'Totally limp. I asked him if I could play with it or if he could do it himself, but he said no.'

'Perhaps if you tried somewhere else?'

'Don't think he would—and I'd only ask out of curiosity. I wouldn't really want to have real dealings with it—you know—it's ...'

'Been with _women_!' said Piers.

They mused on the waste of such an asset.

'How big is it compared to other willies?' asked Piers.

'It's the biggest limp one I've seen, but that doesn't tell you much. Some willies remain nearly the same size when they go stiff; others double in length.'

They were both leaning out of the window, when they saw some movement next door.

It was not Edward or his wife, but a policeman, not in the usual tithead configuration, but in riot gear—a hard hat and transparent visor.

The policeman looked up and the boys waved their hands—one left and one right, as the other hands were currently employed in a mutual exploration of bumholes.

The policeman put a finger to his visor—the nearest to a shushing gesture he could manage.

'It look like the action's beginning!' said Danny, and the boys retired to the comfy chairs, Piers gaping as Danny sniffed his fingers.

'You know, I think Harry's got a point about boys' smells!'

Piers sniffed his own fingers tentatively. _He's come a long way in three days—in fact, so have I!_ thought Danny.

They waited for a few minutes, then heard a clunk outside the door and the sound of a lock being turned.

The door opened.

'Hello, Mrs Figg!' said Danny, pointing to one side of the room, 'Has Dung fixed the couple next door?'

'I'm sure he has, Dear,' she said, glancing behind her.

Danny had sensed something slightly askew and guessed that Professor Dumbledore was present, protected by some powerful charms.

'Come in, please, and welcome to our bijou residence!'

Mrs Figg came in and they heard the lock being turned as soon as the door closed.

'I suppose you and Piers have become great friends during your two days together, Mrs Figg?'

'Mr Fletcher tells me we have—especially as we'd met socially in Little Whinging—but if I see you near any of my cats ...'

'... Then you can watch me stroking them!' said Piers. 'I told you: I'm a changed boy, Mrs Figg.'

'You'd better be! You've put me to a great deal of inconvenience. I could be stroking them myself now.'

She was clearly preparing herself to elaborate when a great crash sounded from below. This was followed by several shouts along the lines of _Armed police! Do not move! If you move, I will shoot you!_

The shouts changed to _Clear!_ and loudened as clumping boots approached. _Stand Clear!_ came from outside and the door crashed open. To the walls' crashing echoes was added a vocal tone-cluster:

'Thank you, Mrs Slocum!' from Piers.

'The key was in the lock, moron!' from Mrs Figg.

'Are you OK?' from the personable young policeman.

'Nice basket!' from Danny.

They left their prison and walked downstairs under the curious stares of a large number of kitted-up policemen.

At the front door they were greeted by DCI Welch who was clearly glorying in having charge of the Met's crack riot squad. Unfortunately, his words were inaudible as half a dozen ambulances, with sirens wailing, manoeuvred through a street already jammed with police cars.

Danny saw a handcuffed Rass being loaded into a black maria—presumably to join Svetty and Smerdy.

When it was established that the three victims were unharmed, they were allocated three police cars, each with driver, armed guard and detective.

Danny sat in the back with DA Haldenby. Their conversation was inhibited by the shared knowledge that one party had broken the law resulting in the other party being criminally abducted.

However, DS Haldenby allowed Danny to phone his mother at the Dorchester and she agreed to wait there for him provided he was delivered by the police—an undertaking which was willingly given by the sergeant.

On the way to Little Whinging Police Station, Danny noticed that DS Haldenby was occasionally looking at him in _that_ way.

At Little Whinging, there were separate interviews, a communal _boots_ and a joyful reunion for all five of the Polkiss family—Danny noted that even the supposedly apathetic Mr Polkiss looked pleased.

During the lengthy proceedings, news was brought in that the three Russians had confessed, then that the three Met detectives had confessed, then that a number of other Russians had been arrested.

It appeared that Joe the waiter had got away with it, even though Danny had forgotten to plead with Professor Dumbledore for him. Danny was pleased for Joe's sake and for the more selfish reason that he could expect his bumhole to get a good working over in twelve or so hours..

The Polkisses were the first to leave.

Danny said goodbye and promised to ring.

'You said that on Monday!' laughed Piers.

'Let's make it happen this time, then!' said Danny.

Mrs Figg was the next to go. She had extracted a promise that they would take her via the supermarket for some cat-treats.

Danny waited another hour as DS Haldenby had to complete a mass of paperwork. Eventually they got off and Danny relaxed in the car.

It's a neat case—everything's kosher, but there's still some unexplained loose ends.' said DS Haldenby.

'Such as?'

Danny sensed that the need for Confunding might be approaching.

'Just little things. I noticed a juvenile-size poo on the carpet in one of the rooms; the windows of your attic had been recently forced; there were reports of _two_ white Bedford vans in the neighbourhood; the couple next door claimed that someone answering your description tried to burgle them and then withdrew the claim. Can you shed any light?'

'No, there were all sorts of things going on in the house, but we couldn't tell what it all meant. And the couple sound like simple loonies. No doubt your investigations will explain all.'

'Investigations? We've got all these juicy cases presented to us on a plate. No'one'll thank me for creating more work for probably bugger-all return! Least of all the Met who are pissed-off with the whole affair!'

'So no-one's going to ask you why you ran a check on the crooks' van yesterday—a full day before anyone but me suspected it was a naughty one.'

'Not likely to, but if they do, it was just my brilliant instinct. I was at the Dorchester and the van was at the Dorchester. I saw it and sensed something wrong.'

Danny laughed: 'Roger the Dodger is falling further behind. Now I think, if you can find a quiet location, it's time for the _Policeman's Perk_.'

DS Haldenby was silent for a few seconds then said: 'Location! Of course! Ha-ha!'

He accelerated fiercely and pressed a switch on the dashboard. The unmarked car now revealed itself, as a dozen flashing blue lights and a two-tone banshee cut a path through the main road traffic.

Danny, feeling the need of a mouthful of willy, approved of DS Haldenby's urgency. After some headlong minutes, the car rocketed into a side road, then another, and finally onto a woody track. The handbrake was on, lights and engine off, and an erection yanked out of an unzipped fly in a trice.

Danny had gathered that DS Haldenby was keen—a supposition that proved correct when he loosed the seatbelt and leant over to place his lips on DS Haldenby's member.

The willy was hard as iron and pre-cum was oozing over an already sticky glans. Danny reached out his tongue for a tickly lick, but a firm hand pressed the back of his head and the back of his throat was rammed.

Danny was assisted in his, by now well-practised, nodding donkey act: DS Haldenby pressed and released the back of Danny's head rhythmically. Danny gamely suppressed his gag reflex and worked his tongue as zealously as he could.

He felt wonderful and thought regretfully of the years he had wasted saving it for Harry. The joy of sucking a male member must be one of the best feelings that life has to offer. The bliss of knowing that someone was utterly involved in you; that you were raising them to the heights of pleasure; that proof of their pleasure would soon arrive in the form of a joyful gush to the back of the throat.

As if to reinforce his thoughts, DS Haldenby started grunting and making synchronised pelvic thrusts—noisily, as his thighs banged against the steering wheel.

The car was rocking, and the come when it came was as profuse as on the last occasion.

Danny resolutely swallowed as much as he could, despite the errant dribbles that were invading his nasal passages.

The sergeant stopped his jerking and grunting and Danny raised his head.

'I reckon the wife's still keeping you short!'

'Bloody marvellous, Danny; and who needs a wife when they've got you?'

'I'm afraid I've dribbled some on your trousers, Sergeant.'

'Don't worry. It'll brush off.'

'Where are we, anyway?'

'Ha-ha! When you talked about a location, I knew just the place! We've just been doing some _Location Shooting_: that big fence is Pinewood Film Studios. If they ever make a film about your abduction, it'll get shot there.'

'Or the new one they've built along the M25.'

'Anyway, I bet they don't show this scene!'

DS Haldenby reversed the car along the track and soon, without siren and lights, they were on the way to Mayfair.

At the Dorchester, the sergeant saw Danny to his room.

It is likely that the compassionate Danny spared some thought for all the boys in the world who didn't have loving parents as he clung to a benevolent-looking man and shouted: 'DAD!'

_**Epilogue**_

_Dear Mr & Mrs Polkiss, Monday, August 16__th__, 1995_

_My son was favourably impressed with Piers' fortitude and initiative during their recent ordeal._

_Having interviewed Piers myself, I was also impressed and feel that his talents would be wasted by continuing his education at Smeltings._

_I am pleased, therefore, to offer Piers an Apprenticeship at Jorrocks and Company to start immediately, the terms to comprise:_

_Reputable lodgings in London_

_All food and drink_

_Intense educational courses with a view to GCSE O-Levels next May_

_Company induction_

_Full use of Jorrocks and Company Sports and Recreation facilities, with personal trainer and off-road driving tuition_

_Company dentist, doctor, out-patient and in-patient facilities as required_

_A starting salary of £12,000 per annum, after tax_

_All reasonable expenses_

_Conditions of the Apprenticeship to be reviewed after one year_

_I enclose a copy of our folio "An Introduction to Jorrocks and Company"_

_Please telephone my Secretary at the above number if you have any queries, or to confirm acceptance._

_Yours faithfully,_

_SIR STEPHEN JORROCKS_

On the last day of August, after an energetic two weeks, Danny and Piers relaxed at the Dorchester Hotel.

The following day would see Danny back at Hogwarts for his third year and Piers at Jorrocks and Co for his first day.

On the window-table, a Muggle newspaper showed a headline:

ABDUCTION CASE, 16 PLEAD GUILTY

A more down-market publication showed:

HEDGEHOG GANG LATEST—SEE PAGES 4, 5, 6, 7

Piers was lying on his back; Danny, with his right hand around Piers' slender neck and his left hand lightly grasping Piers' drained genitals, was gently sucking on Piers' left nipple. Piers had a hand on each of Danny's bum cheeks, gently squeezing them and occasionally allowing a finger to stroke the moist hole.

'Danny?'

'Mmm?' Danny stroked Piers' neck.

'Danny, you've done so much for me, I don't really like to ask another favour.'

'Anything!' whispered Danny 'Just ask!'

'Danny, Can I call you Big D?'

— **THE END —**— APPENDIX ONE —_The Game of Twister_

Twister may be played by two or more persons. It should be played on a soft surface—an Engorged bed is ideal. Selection of players and selection of anatomical areas (_Bits_) is by means of two dice—preferably voice-activated magic dice.

_**The Rules of Chain Twister**_

The game is played by naked males.

Before play commences, spells to protect against observation or encroachment must be in place.

Before play commences, interpretation of the dice is agreed

Before play commences, agreement is reached as to whether _Insertion_ requires consent or not. The term subsumes reverse insertion where the insertee takes the initiative.

Before play commences, agreement is reached as to whether _Opportunism_ is permitted.

At the start of play all players stand around the playing surface. Until their turn, they are known as _Gaspers_.

At no time are Gaspers allowed to touch any other person or stimulate themselves. Verbal encouragement is permitted.

Each turn involves two players: one is a _Pusher_ and one is a _Puller_.

Play commences when a Gasper is selected by the dice. He moves to the playing surface, adopts any posture and becomes the first Puller.

The dice are used three times. The results select: (a) the next Pusher; (b) The Puller's Bit; (c) The Pusher's Bit.

The selected Pusher moves to the playing area and places his Bit against the Puller's Bit. This forms a _Connection_. The Puller must make every effort to assist the Pusher. The Pusher may, if he desires and subject to Rule 4., promote his Connection into an Insertion.

It may happen that the Puller's bit is already fully taken, even after the Pusher's and Puller's best efforts. In this case, the Pusher calls _Engaged_ and the dice are thrown until there is a successful Connection. Bumhole to Bumhole is the only universally accepted automatic _Engaged_.

Rules 10., 11. and 12. are repeated until all players have had a turn.

Subject to Rule 5., between turns a short period is allowed during which any player may call an _Opportunism_ and form an informal connection (which may include an informal insertion, subject to Rule 4.) between one of his Bits and any other player's Bit. An Opportunism may also be used by either of two connected players to promote a Connection into an Insertion.

When all players are in play, the first player completes the chain by becoming a Pusher to the last player's Puller. The dice need only be used twice.

The next phase of the game requires the dice to be used four times, selecting (a) the next Puller; (b) the next Pusher (c) The Puller's Bit; (d) The Pusher's Bit. Rules 4., 5., 11. and 12. apply. This is repeated until the game ends.

The game ends when any Connection is broken. This may be decided by honesty (a call of _Shit_) or magic.

If the game ends before the chain has been formed, a new game is started.

If the game ends after the chain has been formed, a few minutes for relaxation are allowed, during which every player, while maintaining his position as far as possible, shall attempt to obtain an emission from his penis.

All players are deemed winners.

_**Interpretation of the Dice**_

There are a huge number of possibilities. A popular 'heavy' layout is:

**Dice Total Pusher's Bit Puller's Bit**

2,12 Toe Ballsack

3,11 Nose Armpit

4,10 Mouth/Tongue Penis

5,9 Hand/Finger Mouth/Tongue

6,7,8 Penis Bumhole

_**Fission Twister**_

This is a shorter, fiercer and funnier game which dives in at Rule 16.: The dice select two players—a Pusher and a Puller; then they select one of those in play as Pusher/Puller and a Gasper as Puller/Pusher, etc.

_**Warming Up**_

A popular Muggle solution is for one person to remove one item of clothing from another person—the two identities to be decided by the dice. Other possibilities include racing to see who gets naked first; undressing in the dark; strip poker (without the forfeits stage).

— APPENDIX TWO —_**Dedication...**_

To the boys who, in 1990, were the first Muggles to play Twister in the form described:

Dean

Jason

Richard R.I.P.

Roger

Stewart

— APPENDIX THREE —_**Future Reading: Danny Jorrocks and the Week of Sex**_

_Danny Jorrocks and his new-found friend Piers Polkiss have discovered the pleasures of sex._

_There is one more week of the summer holidays left and the boys are determined to enjoy as many varieties of sex with as many (male) friends as possible._

_And they won't let a little problem like You-Know-Who get in the way._


End file.
